King's Crest, Book Two of Four
by python862
Summary: The group lands in Kalimdor and sets off on their difficult journey. Join them as they venture the country in search of Stormwind's lost king. Complete! Rated T for later chapters. Edit: Fixed some minor formatting errors. Sequel to Destiny's Warriors.
1. Chapter 1: Another Day, Another Journey

A/N: Well, if you haven't noticed by now, I'm changing the first chapter to include the prologue and yadda yadda. So here's prologue and chapter one of King's Crest.

**King's Crest**

**Chapter One: Another Day, Another Journey**

The shoreline appeared as a thin line on the horizon at first, blanketed by a thick fog, and got closer as the day wore on. Simonee sat on the deck of the boat, relaxing in the short time prior to the task he and his group had to undertake. The sun was beating down on both passengers and crew alike, even through the winter air. Thus was the curse of Kalimdor and the sea.

Simonee thought back to the events over the past few weeks, all spurred by an overabundance of Defias plaguing Westfall. The note, given him by Deputy Willem; the quest he took on at Baros Alexston's behest; the travel to Westfall, and in turn, to Stoutmantle; the group's split, and their separate dealings, and the loss of a dear friend; returning to Stormwind and fighting off the Horde raid. All of it, happening within mere weeks. That didn't even include being captured and being rescued by his friends. Simonee sighed, desperate for a little bit of rest from the constant traveling. _'At least,'_ he thought _'I have some companions to share this constant burden with.'_

By nightfall, the ship was nearly to the hostile shore, and Simonee could hear the merchants of Ratchet hawking their wares to unsuspecting patrons, all the while watched by the hulking (by goblin standards) bruisers. The ship came to rest adjacent to the mooring, and the crew set to work anchoring the boat to it. The gangplank was extended to the dock, and the passengers filed off, into the strange environment. Simonee elected to go last, and patted the ship's rail as he left it for the dry land.

There now, in front of Simonee, stood the mass of Ratchet, Kalimdor. If this was supposed to be a first impression, Simonee was definitely not impressed. He stepped onto the landmass and filed his way through the throngs of nighttime travelers, finding the group near a particular armor kiosk. The goblin behind the desk sneered at them, and grudgingly repaired what armor they had. Simonee smiled at the scene; if there was anything more powerful than a goblin's greed, it had to be their contempt for humans.

Simonee walked to the side of his partners, and waited, while each got their armor repaired. Afterward, they set off. A wonderful start, indeed.

The nighttime air in the desert was cool, accompanied by a soft breeze blowing through the sandy landscape. It had been nearly an hour since Simonee, Aubs, Aeriah, Dince, Akall, and Dagerly had left the small goblin port town of Ratchet, and in that time, the six of them had put some distance behind them. In the open, they had continued to walk on, and by morning, found themselves nearly halfway into the Barrens. The desert sun sparked through the mountains on the horizon at first, sending shocks of warm air across the sand, and through the course of a few minutes, had risen above the far-away peaks. The light proved useful in helping the group find the pathway that would lead them north, and soon, they had reached the Horde town of Crossroads. Staying away from the prying eyes of the guards, the six navigated the outskirts of the small settlement. When Simonee and friends reached the other side, they sighed a collective breath of relief, and continued northward.

After they passed the Crossroads, Dince asked, "So, where we goin'?"

"To the Night Elves in Darkshore, and from there, to their capitol…" Simonee started.

"…Darnassus?" Aeriah asked, incredulous. He relished the opportunity to return to his homeland.

"Yeah," replied Simonee, smiling at his friend.

The heat started truly to bear down on them at midday, when the sun had reached its zenith in the bright blue sky. It was only a trickle of sweat on Simonee's brow at first, and when that changed into a torrent, the misery of the journey set in. Everyone was on edge and ready to snap at the slightest touch, which hadn't made the walk to the forest any easier. The problem came to a head when Dince and Aubs got into a scrap over how fast they should be walking.

"Well, you're walking too fast! You're practically running!" Aubs screamed, flustered.

"It's not my fault that you're too slow to keep up," Dince said calmly, despite Aubs' nagging. His tone of voice only seemed to make Aubs even more agitated.

"Don't tell me you don't want to yell. I know you're just as hot-and-bothered as I am in this cursed heat!"

"I don't want to yell, because that would only take more of my energy that I just don't have."

"Alright, you two, just calm down and keep quiet. There are more pressing matters that require our attention other than the speed you're walking," Simonee sighed, keeping the two from exchanging blows.

Aubs huffed and looked away, still upset. Dince merely smiled and whispered, "Thanks."

After the small disagreement, the party was silent until dusk. The sun set quickly, to their left, and instantly, a cool wave shot across the desert floor. After that, it was only a few minutes before the six reached the border between the Barrens and Ashenvale. They set up camp where the foliage began, and started a small fire, around which the group unpacked their bedrolls. The spirits were high that night, and there were songs and laughter before they slept. The next morning was just as energetic and enthusiastic as the night prior, while the group repacked and started the trek into the forest.

The transition between the two areas was almost like walking from Westfall to Darkshire. Brilliant, blazing oranges and yellows gave way to cool blues, purples, and greens. Desert sand was changed to bramble, twigs, and grass. The sun had also been replaced, by a canopy of tall, native trees. Nearly instantly, Aeriah seemed to be calmer, less anxious, and in quite a better mood. He took the lead into his native land, and showed his friends all of the natural wonders held within the forest.

"The only other place I feel comfortable like this in the Eastern Kingdoms is Darkshire. Despite all of the nightmare creatures and ogres, its really quite beautiful," he explained. The day was spent sightseeing and continuing the walk to Darkshore. It was difficult for Simonee to tell when the sun had set, but to Aeriah, it was like true night and day. He helped them decide when to make camp, but refused to allow them a fire, so close to the nature he so adored. Instead, he pulled from his pack six blankets.

At the group's confused looks, he grinned and told them the secret. "Moonkin-hide blankets, from the demonic Moonkins from the Exodar's crash site. They're actually warmer than they seem. Try them out!"

The five others in the party did as told, and were pleasantly surprised by the warmth provided by the blankets. When the six fell asleep in camp, it was late in the night, and everyone was happy. They were now halfway to the Night Elves' city of Astranaar, and with the next day's travel, they were happily situated within an inn in the city. The six feasted on great helpings of the local cultivated vegetables and fruits, prepared into compotes, salads, and various other entrees. By the time they finished, each was stuffed full of the deliciously organic foods, and ready to sleep on the cots provided, using Aeriah's Moonkin-hide blankets rather than the thin leaf blankets given them.

The morning after brought more walking, despite the complaints brought on by the group. The forest landscape was still refreshing to Aeriah, and each morning he seemed to become even friendlier. He continued pointing out little details and leading the group through the foliage during their trek, which was successful in taking their minds away from the traveling they had been doing. Before long, they heard the lapping sounds of waves breaking on the shore. They had finally entered the territory of Darkshore.

The six turned their attention to getting to the Auberdine harbor before sunset the next day, and so quickened their pace to a brisk walk, while Aeriah relinquished his tour guide duties for better time. The trees had thinned out a bit, replaced by an oppressively cold and sticky ocean air. The smell was that of salt, of brine. The sun finally was able to break through the protective canopy of leaves here, and it illuminated the floor of the forest, in all of its natural beauty. A mist had developed from the ocean, enveloping the group, seemingly trying to stop them before they made it to the dock.

When they finally did get to their destination, they had also beaten their challenge, making it to Auberdine hours before dusk. While Simonee arranged for their transportation, Aeriah led the rest of the group to the nearest inn, ordering a round of drinks for everyone. What was served, though, wasn't the usual ale. Instead, it was the finest cherry wine, cultivated by the Night Elves' master vintners. To the humans, it was the best thing they'd ever had to drink, like liquid gold. Soon, though, the entire bottle was gone, and the five of them were drunk. Simonee found the group in the inn and sighed, smiling.

"Alright, guys, the boat leaves in ten minutes. Let's get moving," he said, motioning out the door.

The five only grunted affirmation, and shuffled to their feet, laughing each time someone either slipped or fell. By the time they reached the boat, it was time to shove-off, and get on their way to Darnassus. The trip was short, and before long, they had reached the shore of the small island of Teldrassil, and had docked at the even smaller settlement of Rut'theran Village. There, they walked to the tented portal, and tentatively stepped in. The strange sensation of being pulled upward tugged at Simonee's mind, though he ignored it, as he was transported instantly across the island. The others followed and looked on with wonder as they realized where they had been dropped.

They had finally reached their destination. They were in Darnassus, the capital of the Night Elves.


	2. Chapter 2: When in Darnassus

A/N: Okay, folks, here is where I have to depart a bit from Warcraft truth, and wind a bit of my own imagination into the story (imagine that!). So, stick with me here, and enjoy chapter two of King's Crest.

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Two: When in Darnassus**

The city sprawled before Simonee and his group, rising majestically above the ground. Small rivulets flowed beneath bridges and around buildings, murmuring softly beneath the noise of the city. It was a sight to behold; every building was carved from the trees of the forest, with enough care and skill not to kill the wooden titans.

After taking in the cityscape, Simonee remembered exactly what it was he was supposed to be doing.

"Well, let's find Lady Tyrande. I'm sure she'll want to know about King Wrynn," he said, still awestruck. The group, finding themselves sobered by the sights as well, hummed approval, and so they moved for the Temple of the Moon, where Lady Tyrande Whisperwind was waiting in meditation.

Aeriah retook his position at the head of the group, and led them to the temple, taking a little bit of time for sightseeing. The temple itself was just as beautiful as the city around it, with a giant moonwell taking up the center space. Encircling the moonwell were two ramps, leading up to a higher shelf. In the center of the moonwell itself stood a massive statue of a Night Elf maiden, holding a large bowl of water above her head, while the water in the bowl splashed down into the well. Well-hidden pumps pulled the water back into the bowl, making sure of its self-sustainability.

The group stopped gaping at the statue long enough to start the walk up the right-side ramp, feeling the gentle grading under their travel-worn feet. Before long, the ramp leveled out to become the shelf, upon which stood Tyrande Whisperwind and her multitude of advisors and maidens. Aeriah suddenly became anxious all over again, while at the same time reverent. It was understandable, though. Here stood his race's leader, in Malfurion Stormrage's stead. Aeriah walked before Lady Tyrande and kneeled, bowing his head low in respect. The rest of the group did the same in turn, and soon, they were explaining their presence to her.

"So, in short, milady, King Wrynn has been taken by the Defias, and we need help to find him and return him to Stormwind," Simonee finished.

Tyrande took the story into consideration, along with her options. She thought for a few minutes before responding. "Well, that certainly is quite a story, and King Wrynn certainly has been kind to the Night Elves. It pains me to say this; however, I do not know where he is being held. And, from what I have heard, you six seem to be quite capable of this task. For you, I will send out my scouts to try and find your king. It will most likely take more than a few days, so make yourselves at home in the city. I trust Aeriah can show you more of the sights of this magnificent place, and guide you to one of the many inns here. Thank you for bringing me these tidings, and may Elune watch over you," she told them.

"And you as well," replied Aeriah, bowing once more. He stood upright again, and led the group down the ramp and out of the temple. The sun was still visible just over the treetops when they exited the building, lending an almost palpable orange quality to the purple-blue vista.

"So, what now, Aeri?" asked Simonee, curious.

"Well, we can get some sleep, take a tour of the city, or there's always drinking…" Aeriah replied, grinning mischievously.

"No drinking. As far as we're concerned, we're still trying to finish up this job. Remember what I said back in Goldshire?" queried Simonee.

The party nodded glumly before returning to high spirits, asking to see more of the magnificent forest-city. Aeriah gladly did so, pointing out the bank, which, along with much of the city, was carved delicately into the heart of the tree; the rivulets flowing around the landmasses of the city, separating the smaller sections much like Stormwind's canal system; the Warrior's-, Tradesmen's-, and Craftman's terraces bustling with citizens and protectors alike; and the large lake in the middle, deserving of its own district, according to Aeriah.

By the time that the tour was finished, dusk was upon the city, bathing the forest once more in the cool blue hue signature to the Night Elves' territory. It was the beginning of January now, and the leaves of the trees were only protected by the song of the druids. A cold wind rustled past the trees, causing Aubs to shiver.

"Can we get to an inn now, please? I'm freezing out here!" she asked. Aeriah chuckled and complied, and in minutes, the six were sitting beside a blazing fire inside of a cozy inn.

Simonee was curious as to how the flame wasn't burning any of the wood, and so asked, "When we were out in the forest, why weren't we able to light a fire? Here it seems not to make a difference."

"The druids' protection isn't as strong as it is here, and I haven't learned quite enough to be able to cast any protective spells yet," Aeriah replied distantly. He seemed to be recalling a deeply held memory. He was shaken from reverie when Simonee rose from the large, yet comfortable oak bench. Aeriah looked up and asked, "What's up?"

Simonee stretched and answered with a quick, "Going to bed, my legs are killing me…"

Aeriah nodded, and the rest of the group gave him murmured 'good night's, while he ascended the ramp up to the bedrooms. He unpacked the Moonkin-hide blanket provided him by Aeriah, and lied down on the hardwood cot, weary from the past week's travels; weary also by the events of the month prior. He soon found himself asleep, and so, drifted mindlessly into his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3: Chef Duties

A/N: Good morning/afternoon/evening, folks, and thanks for tuning in for chapter three of King's Crest. I have no news of late of anything of import, and as such, let's on to the story! (No, that wasn't a typo)

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Three: Chef Duties**

Simonee woke the next day, feeling refreshed and content. He stretched, feeling as the relief exploded down his sides and back. He sighed and looked at his surroundings; wooden convex walls enclosed him radially, with small ledges carved to hold candles. The floor was actually the center of the tree, with miles of rings spreading from the center outward, indicating ages upon ages of life. The bed he was lying on was three feet tall, and long enough to keep the tallest Night Elf happy. The next thing Simonee noticed was the smell. A trace scent of cherry floated up from the kitchens, along with fruits of all sorts; strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, rhubarbs, peaches, apples, and apricots. He could even smell the fresh vanilla bean, fragrant and beautifully clean.

Simonee rose from the cot slowly, taking care to fold the Moonkin-hide blanket prior to leaving the room. He placed it in his pack and moved out the door. The fresh scents became stronger with every step he took, and by the time he reached the bottom floor and the kitchens, it was irresistible. He walked to the innkeeper and inquired what was being made.

"That, sir, is our famous Berry Stew recipe. I'm afraid it still needs another day to be complete," was the reply from the man.

Simonee thanked him and asked for the breakfast of the day. He sat down at one of the elegantly carved tables, and contemplated what he would do. It would probably still be another few days until news came back of King Wrynn's whereabouts, and pestering Lady Tyrande wouldn't get the results any faster. Night Elves didn't have mages, so he couldn't train while he was in Darnassus. The best he could think of was ambling around the terraces, although even then he might cause some unwanted trouble. He sighed. Simonee wasn't the waiting type; he was best suited to being in action, whether that be blowing things to bits, running around in attempt to try and figure out a dangerous mystery, or even reading. While he respected the fair Lady Tyrande, he still despised her for making him wait. He sighed again.

Before too long, a waiter stepped from behind the bar carrying two platters. He set both down in front of Simonee, who gave the waiter a tip before he stalked away, back behind the bar. The two platters smelled exquisite; the scents of apple and cinnamon rose from one, while the other fragranced the area around it with sweet maple. Simonee lifted the lid from the two platters, one-by-one, and revealed their succulent contents. The one smelling of apples was exactly that; there were eight slices of an apple, laid out in a circle, bathing within a sweet vanilla-cinnamon syrup. The other plate contained light, fluffy whole-wheat pancakes, soaking up a maple sauce.

Simonee licked his lips in anticipation of the mouth-watering sustenance, and dove eagerly into it, fork and knife in hand. He was finished within minutes, and both plates were empty, devoid of both food and syrup. Inspiration struck him as he dabbed away the remnants of food from his lips with a napkin. He returned both plates to the bar, and asked the innkeeper "Is there a chance I could go back into your kitchen and learn how to cook a little bit?"

He seemed to give it thought before responding. "I don't see how you can cause any harm, so go ahead," he said, with a slight smile.

"Thanks," replied Simonee, energetically. He shook the innkeeper's hand before walking back to the oversized inn kitchen.

What he saw there amazed him. There were pots and pans bigger than he, hanging from wooden studs in the roof; there was an immense fire, radiating heat and light, over which was a cauldron even larger than the ones hanging above him. The cauldron contained, Simonee guessed, the Berry Stew that the innkeeper had told him about. Besides this, there were also preparation areas, knives, and more than a few servants and chefs running to and fro.

Simonee stepped forward a few paces, nearly forcing a young Night Elf to collide with him, and looked on with interest as a chef expertly dismantled onions, carrots, cabbage, and various other vegetables into a slaw. To the slaw, he added butter, salt, pepper, and a viscous white substance. When Simonee inquired about the substance, the chef replied, "Its mayonnaise, made from eggs and oil. You want to try?"

Simonee emphatically replied with a nod, and the chef supplied him with a spoonful of the 'mayonnaise'. When Simonee ingested it, the taste was exquisite! The chef had prepared for him a bowl of the slaw while he was busy savoring the mayonnaise, and so proffered it. Simonee, eager to taste what could be made with the magical sauce, thanked the chef and took the bowl. He placed the salad in his mouth, and his eyes widened as the flavor seemed to explode on his tongue; the crisp cabbage, the juicy onions, the smooth butter. When he finished his portion of the slaw, he eagerly joined the chef in his work.

Together, they created dish after dish, each more flavorful than the last. When the day was done, there were 18 dishes made only of vegetables and fruit, and the various sauces accompanying them. Simonee was dripping sweat, both from the hard work and from the fire underneath the Berry Stew. He thanked the friendly chef for letting him work in the kitchen, and turned to leave. He was halted by the chef before he could take a step, and the chef was holding one last bowl.

"For your hard work," he explained.

Simonee took the bowl in his left hand and the spoon in his right. A thick blanket of steam rose from the bowl, obscuring the contents from view. Tentatively, he took a spoonful of the food, and lifted it to his nose. He smelled strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, rhubarbs, peaches, apples, and apricots. He knew now that this was the tantalizing Berry Stew that he had so coveted when he woke up in the morning. He looked wide-eyed with shock at the chef, who merely nodded at him. He placed the spoon in his mouth, and inhaled sharply as the flavors overtook his senses. He could see now why the recipe would be famous. It was simply amazing! It was so clean, yet strangely savory. The fruit's natural sugars gave way to the heat, caramelizing and intensifying the flavors. _'Whatever this stew was seasoned with should be illegal! It's just too good,'_ Simonee thought. He snapped up the rest of the stew in earnest and thanked the chef doubly for the offering.

Walking back up the stairs, Simonee thought back on all the things he had learned in the kitchen. It was a vast subject to study, and when he got back to Stormwind, Simonee intended to find all the books he could to do just that. He had no idea what time it was, but he didn't intend to find out. He was on the bed and asleep in minutes, underneath the Moonkin-hide blankets.

A/N: Finally, I've combined my two loves; cooking and writing, although I don't intend to write a cookbook anytime soon. Anyway, read, review, enjoy. And, as always, be happy and have fun.


	4. Chapter 4: S S and S S, pt 1

A/N: And hello, once more, my friends! I hope you've enjoyed the last chapter of King's Crest, and now I hope you enjoy chapter four!

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Four:**** Spaghetti Squash and Silverwing Sentinels - Part One**

Krionoso was bored. There was nothing to do for a mage in Darnassus. So, he resigned himself to walking in circles, just waiting for something interesting to happen. So far, nothing had.

And, there he was, walking in circles for the rest of the morning. Krionoso watched as the day wore on; as random citizens and city guardians alike passed by, some rushing, some walking. He watched the sun as it went on its graceful arc, high above the canopy of trees. His circular route provided him with a view of everything that went on, and yet the impeccably-behaving people of the Night Elves did _nothing_ of interest to him. And the day wore on.

When it had reached midday, Krionoso felt the growing hunger, gnawing at his stomach, finally reach its apex. He walked to the nearest inn and ordered whatever fruit or vegetable was enjoying its high-time in the graces of the clean people. _'Ah! Now there's a thought!'_ Krionoso mused. _'If I can only get my hands on a gazelle or something…'_

He ate the 'Spaghetti Squash Special' quickly, and then moved out into the forest, on a hunt for some meat to eat.

Outside of Darnassus, the glum purple atmosphere reinforced itself once more, while Krionoso crept quickly through the brush. Sticks and bramble tried vainly to halt his progress, but he was a man possessed. Soon, he had found his prey. A young doe stood majestically in a ray of sunlight, not ten feet from the bush which Krionoso knelt behind.

He mentally readied his trusty fire blast, and held his hand out to direct the flames. A heavy hand set itself upon his shoulder just before he unleashed Armageddon on the poor doe.

"I wouldn't do that so close to Darnassus," said a familiar voice.

"Aeriah? What are you doing out here?" Krionoso asked, turning to face his friend.

"Just enjoying the day. Besides, I figured I'd have to keep an eye on you. No offense."

"None taken, but that…" Krionoso said, gesturing to the now non-existent doe. "Oh, blast it."

Aeriah chuckled to himself and sat down, clearing a section of forest floor. "Well, I figured you wanted some meat, so here," he said, holding out a canteen. "My special recipe, beef stew."

Krionoso, eager for the meaty sustenance, grabbed the canteen. "Thanks," he said, and unscrewed the lid. He drank the broth in earnest, and felt relieved when he tasted the savory beef flavor. "So, you've lived here before, aye?"

"Yeah, it was my first home."

"What do you do for fun?" Krionoso asked, curiosity spiking through his voice.

Aeriah chuckled again, and replied, "Well… there is Ashenvale. There's been fighting going on there for years. Lots of Horde, or so I hear. It's been quite awhile since I've participated."

A wide smirk broke out on Krionoso's face. Finally, a chance to do some damage! "Show me the way," he said. Aeriah stood, and with a flourish, led the way back to Darnassus. The way back was simple to follow, seemingly just through the trees and over a few hills. Aeriah then took Krionoso to the portal, and from the landing in Rut'Theran Village, to the dock.

At the dock in the village, the captain of the next boat leaving for Darkshore stood stoically, overlooking the wooden planks of the mooring and the beauty of a ship attached to it. Aeriah approached him, and asked, "How long until the next boat goes out?"

"In just a few more minutes," the captain replied, turning to face Aeriah. His eyes widened, and he gasped in disbelief. "Is… is that you? Aeri?"

"Johann! It's nice to see you again, old friend. A captain I see," Aeriah replied jovially. He embraced Johann and laughed while he recounted the events since last they met. "So, how's the action been in Ashenvale?" Aeriah asked when he had a chance.

"Ah, the Horde's been gaining ground. The sentinels have been calling for reinforcements for a while now. They can use all the help they can get. If you're interested, then get on the ship; it's time to shove off. You and you're friend can ride, free of charge!" Johann replied. He clapped his hand on Aeriah's back and shepherded him aboard the wooden beauty. "The _Frontier_, the pride of the fleet, she is," the gruff captain remarked as the three of them walked up the gangplank.

The boarding bell pealed out above the town chatter, and from the inn strode passengers, who quickly boarded the craft. A few minutes later, the ship left the harbor, and was on its way to the Darkshore docks. The ride was pleasant to Krionoso, who, for a mage, actually enjoyed the salty smell of the sea and the waves. He settled down on the rail, with his arms crossed. He would have done anything to get a shot at a few Horde, and now was his chance. He smiled.

The boat rose with each incoming wave, and fell after every crest. The rythmic thumping of the wood on water rang through the boat and let off massive vibrations. While he waited on the rail, Krionoso looked at the _Frontier_'s solidly-built architecture. The masting was attached to strong wooden pikes, while the mast itself stood atop the thirty-foot pole, on top of which was the crow's nest. The sails billowed out strongly with each passing tempest, holding up to the full fury of nature. It seemed to be made out of the finest silk, but was as tough as leather. The wood the craft was made from seemed to be treated beech and other hardwoods. The cabin had also looked spacious, as was the rest of the boat; on the outside, the wall rose ten feet, and then eased in a slope to form the poopdeck. There, more wooden pikes attached to the mast by tight wire, which completed the mighty ensemble. It certainly was a finely-built work of art. Krionoso had no doubt that this was actually the pride of the fleet.

By the inspection's end, the boat had pulled into the Darkshore harbor, and the crew worked quickly to moor the ship to the dock. Before he stepped onto the gangplank, he turned to Captain Johann and said, "She certainly is a fine boat, captain. Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to sail upon it."

"Any friend of Aeri's is a friend of mine. Don't worry about it," the captain replied. "Oh, and be careful in Ashenvale. I hear that there are a trio of Tauren that have been causing untold amounts of trouble."

"Thanks for the warning, cap'n." Krionoso then turned, and strode from the boat onto the wooden dock. Aeriah stood there, and gestured down the long, wooden path.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"We shall," Krionoso replied. With that, the two of them began on their way back to Ashenvale.

* * *

A/N: Now, Krio and Aeri are gonna fight some Horde... woot. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read through my dribble, and I'll be sure to make chapter five just as enjoyable. (I have a thing for enjoying things... don't ask.) 


	5. Chapter 5: Meditation

A/N: Slight change of plan, folks; instead of following Aeriah and Krionoso all the way to Ashenvale already, I'm going to break that up (being that two main characters were used in the same chapter). And so Spaghetti Squash and Silverwing Sentinels will be broken into two chapters/parts. Now, however, are Akall's experiences during the day.

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Five: Meditation**

Akall felt refreshed. It had been nearly a week of traveling since he and the other five had rendezvoused with Baros Alexston, and received the mission to return Varian Wrynn to his jurisdiction. Three hours of that was the gryphon from Stormwind to Booty Bay; another two-and-a-half days being spent on the boat to Kalimdor; and the dauntingly long three days walking through the Barrens, Ashenvale, and Darkshore. He was glad just to have the opportunity to relax.

The morning sun was bright overhead, shining its light on everything that moved, and most of what didn't. The scent of Myrrh rose from every crevice, earthy and delightful. Everything about the scenery just spoke to Akall. Maybe this was what the druids felt all the time. Akall walked through the shops, admiring the handiwork of the craftsmen and salesmen, as their wares glinted in the bright blue sunlight. There were glassworks, various trinkets of jewel, metal, and wood, weapons, armor; seemingly everything that could possibly be sold was on sale in the terraces. It almost felt like the Trade District back in Stormwind, minus those Light-forsaken crowds.

Soon, though, Akall found himself tiring of browsing. The glass was fine, and the trinkets were indeed powerful, but all in all, Akall was distracted. He needed to find a place where he could sit and clear what was left of his fizzled-out mind.

A cool breeze rocked the trees, brushing gently past Akall on its way. '_The January weather here__ is__ so much calmer than it __i__s in Stormwind_ Akall thought. He pulled his robes tighter and moved on. He soon found his way out of the city and into the wild forest. He kept walking on, looking for that perfect place, balanced in the sunshine and the shade.

Akall found his meadow. A clearing sat, sloping gently over a hill, just in front of him. He smiled briefly and walked forward. The warmth of the unfettered sunshine washed over him as he crossed the clearing's threshold, and he sat, overlooking a broad section of forest.

Akall closed his eyes, clamping them shut from the evils and vices of the outside world, and delved into his own mind, quickly and efficiently. It took mere minutes to file away all of the stray thoughts in his head, but the work was definitely not finished. Akall kept his eyes closed, and let the forest envelope him in its wonders. The family of birds, nested precariously on the tiniest twig of the nearest tree. The field mice locked in combat over the last berry in the bush. Even the eagle, overlooking everything. He felt it all, almost as clear as if he had seen them through his eyes. This was life's great dance, in its fullest glory. This, all of this, part of the Light, yet separate. All one, yet none the same.

Akall had originally felt this at a young age; the suffering of the wilderness outside of the small cabin in Elwynn flowed through him as well, as if the thick walls were nothing more than an extra layer of cloth. Those were the moments when Akall knew he would become a priest. To end all of the world's suffering, human or animal, friend or foe was his goal. He trained extensively with the priests and paladins of the cathedral in Stormwind for years, and it was often said that he was one of the best pupils to have. Trainers flocked from Ironforge and Darnassus just to teach him. It was also said that he would be a great priest, or a terrible one. He would either bring peace, or wreak havoc.

None of that speculation truly had mattered to Akall himself. He only brought himself to work hard and have faith, not to listen to any superstitious prophetic jumble. And so he did, for years. It was also through his training in the human capitol that he came in contact with the guild. He was there for the inauguration just a month ago, and he was there for the election just weeks later. He had been quite surprised to even be nominated for the position, and even more so to actually be chosen.

Akall turned away from the introspection, and back to the outside world. He opened his eyes, but what he saw frightened him; there, right in front of him, stood a massive bear. The bear reared on its hind legs in attempt of intimidation, and roared. The sound reached Akall as a whisper, as instinct and adrenaline kicked into effect. He stood quietly and slowly, making sure not to make sudden movement. It was no use to run; the bear had already spotted him. He only had the one choice – to subdue the giant.

He accessed the link he shared with the Light, and called forth its power, in a show of force. He called out ancient words, and when finished, a beam of light slashed across the ground in front of the bear. The bear backed slowly, impressed by the power the meat in front of him held. His appetite surmounted by his survival instinct, the bear gently walked back into the trees to stalk something else.

Apparently, intimidation worked as a double-edged sword. Once rid of the hulking beast, Akall made his way back to the magnificent forest-city of Darnassus. The sun had nearly set during the time Akall reflected, and so it was getting late. He entered the city gates, afterward walking straight to the inn. He settled himself on the cot and looked back on the progress he had made earlier. Satisfied, he lied flat on the bed and closed his eyes again. He thought over and over again of the bear, and what would have happened had he not come to his senses. He quelled those thoughts. It wouldn't have happened. He opened his eyes at that time for a reason; the Light looked after him. Apparently, it wouldn't let him die that easily. By the time he fell asleep, the sun had set, and he could almost swear he smelled the fragrant scent of a multitude of berries…

* * *

A/N: So there's Akall. A bit of backstory, and of foreshadowing! DUN DUN DUN! Anyways, there's chapter five. Expect chapter six soon… still figuring out if I want to put one of the rogues next, or go back to Aeriah/Krionoso. Anyway, fond _adieu_s and surrah surrah…


	6. Chapter 6: S S and S S, pt 2

A/N: Slight continuity issue I must address: all throughout Destiny's Warriors and King's Crest, I've been remarking that the group is of six. It is actually of seven, but only six of them are actually on the 'council', so I see where I got messed up. In other news, once again departing from Warcraft truth, but hey, variety is the spice of life, isn't it? Anyway, here's part two of Spaghetti Squash and Silverwing Sentinels!

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Six: Spaghetti Squash and Silverwing Sentinels – Part Two**

Aeriah loved the forest without bounds. It was so fresh, so relaxing. Everything about it seemed to just speak to him. It had been so long since he had been home. Aeriah had been traveling all over the two continents ever since he was old enough to get out of the family house and pursue his interests in becoming a great druid of the Cenarion Circle. Everyone laughed at him when he told them his dreams, but he had never once given up; and now he felt as if he was so close to achieving it.

At the current moment, however, he was leading Krionoso through the purple forests of Darkshore, anticipating the opportunity to do some damage to the Horde. He chuckled to himself. If anything was stronger than Krio's ability to get into trouble, it was his hate of the Horde.

It had been nearly a half-hour since he and Krionoso had left the harbor, Johann, and the _Frontier_, and now they were nearing the edge of the province of Darkshore. The ocean's lapping had ceased after another hour of walking, and that proved that the two were in Ashenvale. Walking to the center of the forest, Krionoso had asked additional questions about the land, the history of the Night Elves, and what seemed to really pique his interest, Tyrande Whisperwind.

"You've heard the stories of the green dragonflight and their dreamworld, right?" Aeriah asked.

"Yeah, the druids had made a pact with them for access to it, right?"

"Right. Well, something corrupted the dragons, and now the dreamworld has become corrupted along. So, our Arch-Druid, Malfurion Stormrage, had re-entered the Emerald Nightmare in order to fix the mess. Which means, until we find a way to get him back, he's stuck there," Aeriah explained. When Krionoso nodded his understanding, he continued. "This meant that we didn't have a functioning leader. So, we went to the next in line, which happened to be Lady Tyrande. It's a well-known fact that the two were lovers, and so the succession seemed natural."

When Aeriah had finished his story, the both of them found themselves in a small settlement, seemingly preparing for war. "I guess we're here," remarked Krionoso wryly.

It was nearing the late afternoon when they had arrived at the staging area, and so, decided to wait before heading headlong into the battle.

* * *

The sunrise showed red above the canopy of trees, and with it rose Krionoso and Aeriah. The sun illuminated the area in a bath of meridian light, detailing a large gate in the middle of a large fence, in the middle of a large field. Krionoso stared at the feat of engineering for minutes before moving on and approaching the imposing-looking human standing in front of it.

"Yeah, what do you want?" the man asked. His armor glinted sharply in the sunlight, a reflection of Krionoso clearly visible within the polished plate. The man stood easily at six-feet tall, and looked as if he weighed more than two hundred pounds. Definitely not a man to mess with.

"I and my friend here are looking to rid a few pests. Mind accommodating us?" Krionoso asked, innocently, yet with enough of a challenge in his voice.

"Ha!" the giant chuckled. "Sure… if you're man enough." The man made a motion to the gate guards, and the portal was slowly raised to a clearance of six feet. "Feel free to come back at anytime. Oh, and don't forget to bring back a few trophies," the paladin mocked.

"Oh, come now, sir. Your disdain for we gentle mages isn't needed," Krionoso said with a sly smirk.

"Oh really? And why is that? Let the warriors do all the work while you stand back and twiddle your thumbs until you're ready to get some action? Is that it?" the paladin began growling.

"You're just mad that you don't get to blow things up. Hell, all you can do is swing a sword. Are you trying to compensate for a lack elsewhere?" Krionoso said with hands held behind his back.

The paladin began to advance, but was restrained by the amused look on Aeriah's face. "And why is this so funny to you, _druid_?" he asked, with enough venom in his voice to outshine even the most adventurous of spiders in Duskwood.

"You're letting him get control of your emotions. He's manipulating you," Aeriah replied, regaining control of his facial expression. The paladin scowled, then turned and stalked away, back to his post.

"Go ahead in. Don't let yourself get into trouble, my little squishy friend," he said, with as much mock-politeness in his voice as he could muster.

Krionoso smiled wide at his triumph, and clasped Aeriah on the shoulder. "A good day already!" he exclaimed.

"You do know that he would've pounded you into pulp had I not been here to stay him, right?" Aeriah asked, still amused.

Krionoso smiled wryly. "You know, you've got to relax, my man. Have a bit of fun! Plus, I would've loved to see his face when he had gotten frozen to the ground," he said. The two continued on their way through the gate, and soon arrived in another blue clearing. To their left was a building, covered in moss and vines. Straight ahead was another, distant and blanketed with fumes of intense heat. It was then that Aeriah noticed the reason for the clearing; it had been cleared manually, by axe and brute force.

"What is your reason for being here?" asked a feminine voice, from their right. Aeriah looked in the direction it came from, and noticed a lone Night Elf hunter standing where the trees started to thin out.

"We've come to join the fight against the Horde. Are we late?" he asked, awestruck by the female. It was lust, but he knew better than to do anything foolish around a Silverwing Sentinel. It wasn't very often that one did and got away with it, right in front of Lady Tyrande's personal attack force. He also knew why the Sentinel was here; they cared deeply about Ashenvale forest. It nearly pained them physically just to see it harmed.

"No. You're not late. In fact, I've just returned from scouting the Horde's camp over there," she said, pointing to the far building. "It seems as though they're preparing for another attack in a few hours." She turned and started walking to the building. "Come. I'll get you registered."

Aeriah and Krionoso followed her into the building, through doors and hallways, and finally to a small desk, resting in an alcove.

"Just sign your name on the next available line. We'll lend you gear for as long as you're here," the Sentinel said, moving towards a panel on the wall. She pressed a small discolored spot, and the panel became a door. The door led to a relatively large conclave, the walls covered in cloth, leather, mail, and plate armors, each decorated with a large blue tree insigne emblazoned on the torso.

Krionoso, after placing his signature on the parchment, gaped longingly at the armor closet. "Whoa… that's definitely impressive."

He stepped closer, and gasped when the Sentinel pulled out a cloth robe, close to, if not exactly, his size. She handed the ground-length garment to him and returned to searching in the closet. When she returned to view, she returned with leather items, dyed a deeper blue than the insignia.

"Thank you," he said when he accepted the armor.

"Changing rooms are directly behind you," she said in reply. "I'll wait until you're ready."

The two of them walked into their separate rooms and changed quickly into the gifted armor. They stepped out within minutes and inspected the clothing the other wore. Each item was specially crafted for comfort and agility. The robes Krionoso wore brushed the ground, while Aeriah's armor was nearly skin-tight, culminating in menacing leather boots.

"I see that these fit you rather well…" the Sentinel remarked. "Good. Those are imbued with a spell that will keep you from dying permanently on the battlefield. As long as you wear them, you'll be returned near this building."

"Hmm. Almost takes away the need for priests on the battlefield, eh?" Krionoso asked. The Sentinel eyed him quickly, almost with contempt, before speaking again.

"Oh, it still hurts intensely to die. It just isn't permanent this way. And yes, we still use priests in order to keep our men alive. It's terribly messy if we don't," she said, amusement spiking in her voice.

Banter was the only thing keeping Aeriah awake through the wait, while more and more joined them in the waiting room. The two had gleaned the Sentinel's name through some of the conversations they shared with the ever-increasing crowd.

"Ah, I see you've met the good Lieutenant Starborn. I've heard she's in tight with Lady Whisperwind," said one friendly shaman. The Draenei was young by their standards. He had long, braded black hair, tucked neatly behind two sharp-looking horns. His teeth were impeccable, and he smiled often, obviously a very happy man. He was dressed in plain cloth. When asked about this preference, he merely stated, "It keeps me cool when I'm not in immediate planning for combat. When I'm in combat," he pulled a heavy pack from his back. He opened it for the two to see. "I use these babies." Inside the bag were large pieces of mail, the chains clinking together at the slightest movement. The mesh was so fine, even the smallest sewing needle couldn't find its way through.

"That is very beautiful armor. Are you an adventurer?" Aeriah asked.

"Yes, sir. I've nearly traveled the world, and seen some beautiful things. This," he said, motioning to the armor, "is merely one set of them. I enjoy my travels."

The three talked the minutes and hours away before heading out to prepare for the Horde's assault. It was only a few more seconds before they heard the rhythmic pounding of the war drums. Two horizontal lines of soldiers filed from the far side of the field, led by three Orcs pounding down on the large wooden drums with their bare fists. They washed over the landscape, skirting the large tree stumps left in the ground. Aeriah spotted three large Tauren bringing up the rear, hefting war axes with blades the size of him. He tapped Krionoso on the shoulder and pointed to the finding. Krionoso blanched slightly before regaining his swagger.

"No worries. I can take 'em," he said, smiling. His smile faded only a little as the Horde continued to traverse the hills.

"Get ready, defenders," Lieutenant Starborn warned. She held her hand out, signaling to wait. She raised it steadily with every beat of the drums, and when the advancing army reached halfway, she sent it flying down. "CHARGE!" she called, and began to run.

Aeriah followed the command and sprinted down the tall hill at maximum speed. He nearly left Krionoso behind, using long strides to traverse the land. The leading group of defenders crashed in waves upon the shores of the Horde, and the thrill of battle was upon them. Swords clanged together, as the warriors clashed in a fit of rage. Mages casted spells of flame and ice, while shamans bent the elements to their will, sending shots of earth and thunder to litter the sky. Priests were busy, between healing comrades and decimating the morale of the opposite side using the darker forces better left to warlocks. Aeriah fell in with a group of fellow druids, using his beloved Moonkin form to wreak havoc on the still-advancing Horde. Hunters lent additional support by sending their assorted pets in to take care of close combat, while they fired off volleys of arrows and bullets.

Aeriah took notice as the Horde began to surge through the front line of warriors. The priests were starting to become overwhelmed from the double duty they had to do. Even the priests using shadow powers were being called forth to heal. He knew dealing damage was important, but he knew that keeping people alive for as long as possible was more so. Using the knowledge about the protective spell in the armor, he dropped his Moonkin form in favor of his normal body, and called upon the nature to heal, helping the priests immensely. Other druids followed suit, while others remained in their attack forms. With the effort, the Horde army started to be driven backward, and so the struggle crawled on.

* * *

Krionoso began to feel tired, as the mana expenditure took its toll on his strength. He had been casting now for nearly hours on end. But, even through all of the weariness, he was happy. He had been decimating the Horde with each spell he slung; his fireballs seared flesh, his frostbolts froze the opposition alive. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Of course, that was before a Tauren expressed interest in tearing him apart.

The large bull charged Krionoso, horns poised to impale him on the thick black ivory. He sidestepped the rush, and cast a frost nova, rooting the hulking form to the ground. The Tauren's momentum too great to halt, he fell forward, landing face-first on the hard-packed dirt. His icy shackles broke apart upon his impact, and he stood, throwing his head back in a low growl. Krionoso could swear that he almost saw the smoke billowing from the bull's nostrils.

The Tauren looked back down at Krionoso and sneered. He shouted something in the Tauren language and unsheathed a menacing blade, the height of Krionoso, and probably twice as heavy. The mage gulped the iron lump growing in his throat, and the monster in front of him bellowed out a guttural laugh.

"Just my luck, hmm?" Krionoso asked himself. He prepared himself for the long haul. This beast wasn't going down without a fight of five lifetimes. He stared the Tauren down for seconds that seemed to drag on for hours, before making his first move. He thrust his hand forward quickly, letting the fire jet from it, setting the bull aflame. This succeeded in angering the monster, but also seemed to do a considerable amount of damage. The next few moments were spent hopping backward and rolling forward, keeping his head firmly attached to his body, for all the effort the Tauren used to try and take it off. The large blade completed several large, yet graceful arcs through the air, but for all of the incredible speed the Tauren was able to swing it, Krionoso was always one step faster.

When the Tauren seemed to tire out, Krionoso began to cast his fireball. The flames licked the rock-hard leather hide and knocked the beast backward several paces. Krionoso used this newly-won momentum to his advantage, chain-casting several spells in a measured combination, keeping in mind his low mana reserves.

After another eight fireballs, the Tauren finally dropped, defeated. Krionoso stood, exhausted, over the corpse. Not letting the chance slip by, he pulled a sharp knife from his pack, and set to work on removing an ebony horn. After minutes of work, he pulled himself back up, triumphant. '_Wait until that smarmy paladin sees this!'_ he thought.

By the time he returned to the fight, it was over with. A few last skirmishes remained, but nothing that the individual combatants couldn't handle on their own. Then Krionoso remembered something; the other two Tauren! He looked around, spotting one swarmed by a group of three warriors; no need to worry about him, but what about the third? Upon further inspection, he noticed the hooves below the feet of the one currently being felled. Satisfied, Krionoso sought out Aeriah, finding him recuperating on a small ridge beside the shaman from earlier, who had donned his ornate, yet effective armor.

"Glorious battle, friends!" he shouted, blissful.

"Aye," Krionoso replied. He took the Tauren horn from his pack and inspected it.

"A fine specimen that is," the shaman said, looking on with interest. "May I take a look?"

"Sure," the mage handed the Draenei the ebony trophy carefully, root first. The shaman turned it in his hands, inspecting every nook and scratch in the otherwise perfect item.

"A fine specimen indeed." The shaman returned the horn to its new owner, and looked over the battlefield. "Victory… is ours," he said, happy, yet solemn.

"So, what do you have planned after you get out of here... eh… what is your name?" Krionoso asked, curious.

The shaman laughed. "How rude of me. Garret Frosthammer at your service. As for your original question, I don't know. I haven't given it much thought," he said.

"Well, my good sir Frosthammer… how would you like to be a part of the Slayers of Destiny?" asked Aeriah.

Garret raised an eyebrow, and then realized what the druid had been asking of him. "Ah, I see. Well, if characters such as yourself are in abundance, count me in."

"Well, then, welcome, Garret Frosthammer, to the Slayers of Destiny!" Krionoso greeted, jubilant. "My friend here is Aeriah, and I'm Krionoso. Sorry we didn't introduce ourselves earlier."

"You shouldn't apologize, I forgot as well!" Garret replied, smiling.

The battle over, the three stood and returned to the staging area, where Aeriah and Krionoso returned the endowed garments in favor of their own. After the deed was done, they walked back through the gate, where Krionoso paused. He turned, smiling, to the guardhouse beside the gated fence.

He stepped unannounced into the small building and confronted the paladin from earlier that day.

"Well, the squishy one returns!" the paladin remarked. "And what about your friend? Did he make it out too, or are you left alone to fight your own battles?"

Aeriah appeared beside the mage and smiled, waving. "No, he made it. And, I have this…" he started pulling the glossy horn from his pack. He lifted it to the light so that the paladin could see. The guard's jaw almost literally dropped to the floor.

"You… you killed one of the Tauren?" he asked, frightful.

"Yes, and it's even got the char-marks to prove it, if you'd like to see," Krionoso replied, smiling brightly.

"And you did it yourself?"

"As far as I know. The Light knows how hard the damn thing tried to take my head off."

The paladin, apparently happy with the answer, laughed and called out, "Well, my friend, it looks like I've underestimated you!"

The guard invited Krionoso, Aeriah, and Garret inside the cottage, and treated them to a few drinks before shooing them out. The three laughed and walked into the night, happy to start the return trip to Darnassus.

A/N: DAMN! 3k words this chapter! Just about half the total amount of the previous chapters. Anyway, my plot has apparently changed slightly. I never intended for there to be a eighth group member, but when I created the character of Garret Frosthammer, I just had to follow through. Anyway, thanks for at least skimming through this chapter, and have fun!


	7. Chapter 7: The Art of Existentialism

A/N: Philosophy time! Don't worry if it's mumbo-jumbo, I tried to keep it rather neat, but it may not have worked. Anyway, enjoy, and tell me if you got confused anywhere.

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Seven: The Art of Existentialism**

Dince, as always, felt apprehensive. The cool breeze and the soft muttering of the trees were conspiring against him. Each passerby had a plot for his life. So, there he sat, away from the perceived perfidies. As a relatively middle-aged man, Dince had seen a great many things; the difference with him was that he thought most of it was out to 'get' him. In that sense, he hadn't grown old at all, and thereby was still plagued by the foolishness of childhood. That did not, however, go to say that he wasn't intelligent; quite the contrary! His mind could decipher untold amounts of riddles and puzzles within a very short amount of time. And most of these puzzles were meant for geniuses.

Dince took up a rarified fallen leaf into his hand, and looked at its intricacies as he spun it in his fingers. Thin, spindly veins branched away from the stem, leaving a deeper brown in its wake, in contrast to the rest of the leaf. A thin, tapered edge maintained itself around the perimeter of the leaf, and the center was oddly unperturbed by the various insects of the forest, formerly protected by the Cenarion druids. It was starting to become dry and brittle, deprived of its contact with its host tree, and by proxy, the druids' blessing.

_'Brittle,'_ Dince thought. It seemed this leaf was a perfect mirror of his mental state. He was stunned, though it wasn't the perfection of the leaf that had him stunned, but the imperfections. He was enthralled by them. It was flawed yet beautiful, tumultuous yet serene, inanimate, yet alive. It was the world in flux, hardly showing through the perfect order. Dince was perplexed at this sudden revelation, seemingly small in nature, but definite and real all the same. He thought on perception. What a great many faults that could've been avoided, all due to the flaws of perspective. Dince dropped the leaf, letting in fall. It oscillated in the light breeze of the forest, rocking back and forth as it carved its path downward. It landed finally on a soft, spongy patch of earth bordering the lake.

Dince smiled. He had arrived at the final puzzle. Life itself was such a large and complex entity that most who tried to decipher it eventually went mental, as they tried to figure out it's every mystery. Dince thought about this as well. Life wasn't the puzzle; no, the true challenge was in navigating the eddies and currents of the logic of life and escape with mind intact. It was, after all, very simple to become lost in the Great Scheme. What with religious perspectives, known scientific 'fact's, the specter of emotion, reason, lack of complete knowledge, and worst and most definitive of all, the sheer amount of time it took simply to explore every avenue completely and without missing a single detail, no matter how small. Yet another unsettling prospect was that of paradox. The thought of knowing one 'fact', yet also knowing a contradicting 'fact', and believing that both were true, despite the opposite nature, paradox was quite more than enough to drive anyone to insanity!

Dince paced the interminable pathways in his mind, aware only of the largest worldly details passing him by. He noticed the sun moving – that is, the world moving around the sun – but was only acutely aware of the passage of time. Time; another perceived truth of the universe. What if time suddenly became skewed? Or jumped forward periodically; or for that matter, stop altogether? What would civilization be without the concept of time? History would probably become a jumbled mess, without knowing how long it had been since the event occurred! The very foundation of life would be questioned, without _any_ answers to be returned! Man- and all other kinds would have to adapt to the inadaptable, adjust past the point where adjustments couldn't be made. Chaos would break out, enveloping the very core of civilization. One of the main problems, Dince realized, was the concept of reality itself. How could something be so blatantly stated by man and widely and blindly be accepted, without any challenging thoughts brought against it? It should be subject to distrust and debate along with any other idea or law! Once more, the manifested culprit that showed its ugly head was perspective. Everyone had come to accept the sole reality to be truth, and had set their perception in scale to that, to the so-called 'status-quo'. All without ever stepping back and examining that which everything else was set in relation to.

Deeper and deeper into the quandary Dince delved, reexamining every claim made by 'experts in the field'. Gravity was well established, and Dince respected that, but what if that had unraveled? Reality would once more take a hit to credibility. Mass and volume were accepted concepts, but perhaps even they become jumbled? What of acceleration? Velocity? The margin for error was so great that even the slightest shift could prove damning. Dince was marveling at this point, simply shuddering at the erratic possibilities.

The thoughts kept swirling long after Dince had given up trying to figure out each secret. He knew he had made progress, both toward the answer, and toward the near-inevitable insanity. He set aside his new objective for the rest of the day; it was nearing night when he had reentered the world from his trance. His stomach growled angrily at him, making known its displeasure of being ignored for the past eight hours. This merely troubled Dince further in his thoughts. Time, again. Another pitfall in the stoppage of it would be organic systems of ordinary life. It would truly be a mess of universal proportions. Once again setting aside his thoughts, he stood from his roost near the lake bed, and walked to the inn he had slept in the night prior.

The warm glow of the fire showing on the deep mahogany walls was solace from his own mind, as he entered the friendly building. A young Night Elf stood in the center of the room, his mind solely focusing on the task of pushing the mop in his hands to clean the floor. Such single-mindedness could be afforded to the youth. They couldn't possibly be caught up in the troubles of the day. Not when life held such wonders for them. And why should they be? They held a stake in them, of course, but when they know nearly nothing of the grim realities, it was much better for them simply to be left alone until they believed they were ready.

Dince walked inside, being mindful of the newly clean floor, and moved up to the counter. He engaged the innkeeper with light banter before ordering anything. He eventually ordered a stack of wheat pancakes, and walked to the small table nearest to the door. The pancakes were given to him in short order, and were dispatched as such. Dince tried not to think of too much more as he walked to his room in the inn, and definitely not as he drifted peacefully into the deep coma of sleep. His mind worked through the night, in attempt to clear the cobwebs and damage. He would have to try thinking again soon.


	8. Chapter 8: Eternity In Blue

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Eight: Eternity in Blue**

Aubs sat in the inn's dining room as servants and masters ran this way and that. A parchment lay on the table before her, displaying its blank expanse. Aubs was pondering what exactly to put on the parchment, and while she pondered, she twirled the feathered quill between her index finger and thumb. The majestic gray fronds extended from the stem, ending nearly an inch-and-a-half out. The ink bottle was open, the cap resting on the hardwood table. Aubs pondered.

It wasn't that she didn't know _what_ to write; she just didn't know _how_ to write it. Over the past few weeks, everyone's endurance and patience had been tested. It was showing now, as Aubs couldn't quite think clearly on the subject matter. The phrases and clauses weren't connecting, the nouns had been mingling with the adjectives, and verbs were constantly shifting places with each other. The tale she was to be telling wasn't cooperating with her. The parchment merely stared at her mockingly. She sighed, frustrated, and placed the quill gently on the table. She rubbed her eyes in the hopes that the answers were inscribed on her palms. They weren't.

Aubs stood up, exhausted even after a good night's rest. Her mind was definitely a mess. She shoved stray strands of hair from her face, pushing them behind her ears. An idea struck her, and she sat down again, taking the quill in her fingers. She gently dipped the point in the ink bottle and set her eyes on the parchment again. Aubs pressured the feather into the parchment, and began writing; of the tasks, of the travels, and of the beautifully blue forest. Her hand worked in overdrive, speeding about from one margin of the cloth-like paper to the other, lest she lose the precious information. The words formed in front of her, as if she was a spectator and not the writer. She lifted her hand only a few times to refill the tip of the quill in the ink, afterward bringing it back to the parchment, letting the script flow.

Minutes passed in slow motion; it seemed two hours had passed when she had finally lifted her hand from the page for the last time. The finished product looked finer than the finest glasswork. The script was fluently written, as the coils and lines integrated with each other, flowing in and out freely. Aubs sighed, content to be finally finished with the project. It was a poem, describing the group's plight over the past month. After she finished, it was as if her thoughts were finally put in order. She read over her work, making more than sure that she hadn't missed any details or made and mistakes.

Aubs stretched her back remaining seated, and reclined as best she could, finally sated completely. The poem itself read:

_A fine winter's day_

_That one fateful morn_

_When friends met friends_

_Similarly adorned_

_These men in black,_

_Red and gold,_

_Met in great earnest_

_To see events unfold_

_When all were gone,_

_Remaining there were six_

_Friends of higher status_

_Blinded with most lovely bliss_

_The leader, most respected,_

_Had taken up a quest__ and_

_They set off to Stormwind_

_At his gentle request_

_The city, fair and stoic_

_Held them quite fairly_

_Though for sake of time_

_They found not ways to tarry_

_Heavy with thought,_

_The man they set to meet_

_Told them fair and simply_

_'To Westfall, and be fleet'_

_So with eagerness,_

_They left the stone walls_

_And took up the cause_

_For now against time,_

_They found not time to pause_

_They found themselves forging_

_On through snow and ice_

_They walked for that day_

_Taking only rests_

_That were not for vice_

_At the end of the travel,_

_They met the second man_

_To help them on the quest_

_After__ some __terrible fighting,_

_He told them the plan_

_'The Defias, of mischief and strife_

_Are causing too much trouble_

_So I need of you to find the source_

_And take him from life's puddle'_

_After moment's thought_

_The leader simply stated_

_'Three will come, three will stay,_

_And this threat will be abated'_

_He left with not another word_

_With his chosen two_

_While three were left in town_

_Pondering what to do_

_The warrior addressed the issue_

_And bade them build a wall_

_To protect from invaders_

_And make it strong and tall._

_A few hours' work_

_Had finished the defense_

_While the workers rested_

_Watching over their new-built fence_

_The Defias had been waiting_

_For another assault_

_And soon they began marching_

_Attacking through the fault_

_The defenders kept their guard_

_While Defias poured inside_

_Each new wave surging_

_'For Van Cleef,' they cried_

_The leader had finished_

_The task he was sent to do_

_And soon began helping_

_Though the battle was nearly through_

_But all was not successful_

_And soon the six would find_

_That now they were five,_

_Minus a bright mind_

_The leader with righteous rage_

_Expelled the murd'rous fool_

_Who dispatched his friend_

_With a flame wrought violent red_

And so the poem went line after line, stanza after stanza. Aubs wrote about the events that transpired since Westfall. It kept on until Aubs finally wrote about the group's arrival in Darnassus:

_The city far and wide_

_Spread above the plains_

_Like a mural of land_

_Found free of any reigns_

_The seven arrived at a temple_

_With goddess standing near_

_And__ Lady Tyrande_

_Waiting to hear_

_The tidings they brought ere_

_When the leader explained_

_She looked very grave_

_Saying 'I am saddened by your loss,_

_But not much can I waive'_

_She sent her scouts_

_To search for __the__ king_

_Guided by nothing_

_But a single, true ring_

_And so the story unfolds_

_It still weaves through_

_As the seven wait_

_Spending__ an__ eternity in blue_

Once more Aubs looked over her handiwork, still fussing over small details. She smiled, happy with her triumph over writer's block. She set the quill inside the small ink bottle and leaned back in her chair. She once again rubbed her eyes, wiping away any weariness in them. She took the parchment, rolled it in a tight coil, and set it gently inside her pack. Aubs stood, stretched briefly, and exited the inn to find the blue landscape.

It was still midday, and so the trees allowed faint traces of the sunlight through. Some citizens spoke with merchants, while others walked by blithely. Aubs looked further, examining her surroundings, and saw Dince sitting by the lake. For some reason, he looked pained. He wore a grimace and clamped his eyes closed. Deciding it was better if she didn't bother him, Aubs simply turned to the road and started to walk, not caring especially where she went. She watched absently as she passed by trees, ferns, and bushes. She walked for hours, only attentive to the city's borders. When she finally came back to her wits, she found it rather dark outside. She started to turn back to the inn, when she noticed a small kitten, lost in the woods.

"Hey, little guy. You lost?" she called out to it.

The small thing mewed lightly and stepped tentatively towards her. She clicked her tongue, and held out her hand, and the kitten moved closer. It mewed again before allowing Aubs to pet it. The kitten began purring softly under her hand's gentle pressure. It was small, orange, and underfed. The poor thing's ribcage showed from underneath the fur and skin, and Aubs gasped. The tabby, it seemed, was a stray.

"Well, now. We can't have that. Come with me, and I'll get you something," Aubs said to the cat. It mewed loudly, delighted at this turn of events. Aubs picked the kitten up and returned to the inn with it in her hands.

She asked the innkeeper for a saucer of milk, and he happily obliged. Aubs gave it in turn to the cat, which drank it in earnest. When it was finished, it looked expectantly back at Aubs. She laughed and ordered up another round. The cat was finished after another six saucers, and it mewed quietly at Aubs, apparently in thanks.

She said, "You must've really had a streak of bad luck, huh? Stay with me, buddy. I'll make sure you're all set." The kitten purred, set his head on the table, and started nodding off. Aubs picked it up gently and shuffled up the stairs. "I know how you feel, little guy," she said. The kitten purred.

Aubs entered the bedroom quietly and settled on her bed. The kitten stretched and walked onto the hardwood bed. He lied down and closed his eyes. Aubs smiled and placed her head on the small pillow. Together, the two of them drifted to sleep peacefully.


	9. Chapter 9: R and R, and a Little Poison

A/N: Well, the FF document editor failed me last time, and so you guys didn't get to have an author's note. So, now I'm mitigating the problem by putting it in the document beforehand. Anyway, my move to Connecticut is done and over with, and I'm definitely not impressed so far. With no more news than that, enjoy chapter nine of King's Crest!

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Nine: Rest, Relaxation, and a Little Poison**

Dagerly took in the beautiful forest sights, enthralled by the blue forest. It was morning in Darnassus, and he stood stonily on a wooden balcony just outside of the bedrooms of the inn. A cool breeze brushed past him, reminding him of Elwynn Forest and the facsimile winter there. Home, where he should be, resting in his cottage next to a blazing fire while reading the latest update from Stormwind. He went along with Simonee originally because of the close friendship they had forged over the years, and he felt protective of him. Dagerly never quite expected it to be such a long journey, though. He sighed deeply and turned around.

He reentered his room and sat down on the bed, pulling his pack from the post. He rifled through it quickly and found what he needed. Soon there were piles of vials littering the wooden space, some larger than others, some round, some square. Some were filled with viscous liquids, while others were filled with dusts and powders, and others yet filled with nothing more than the stale, ancient, dusty air. Dagerly set to work, quickly filling the empty vials with the contents of the filled ones. Smoke rose from one particularly volatile mixture, before Dagerly literally put a cap on it. The poisonous fumes were hampered by the solid corkwood, and Dagerly moved on to the next poison. The process went on and on as the morning turned to afternoon. By the time he was done, there were no empty bottles besides the few reagents he ran out of.

He stretched, careful to avoid pushing any of the vials off of his bed. He stood up and placed the poisons one by one into the pack. Stepping slowly out of the bedrooms, he moved down the stairs and out into the city grounds. He walked through Darnassus' dirt roads down to a small house on the outskirts. He knocked twice before entering a dark and musky room.

"I see you found me with no problems," said a slick voice, drifting lazily from a shadowy corner.

"You know the deal. You also know how dangerous this type of deal is. I've kept my part of the bargain. Have you?" Dagerly replied.

"Quite so. On the table. I wanted to see what you were capable of. Do you have every single one?"

"I've already told you I do. Including this, on the house…" Dagerly said, pulling a diamond-like bottle out of his bag. "My specialty."

He proceeded to place all of the previously empty vials onto the small wooden table in front of him. When he finished, the count was twenty-six vials on top of the surface.

"Impressive," said the man in the shade, obviously pleased.

"Now, as per payment?" Dagerly asked.

"Oh, right. Here," the man said, tossing a loaded coin purse to Dagerly, filling his end of the contract. Dagerly caught it sure-handedly and nodded to the shaded corner of the room. He turned and exited through the door again, basking in the warm glow of the blue light.

Afternoon in the city was noticeably subdued, as the merchants began cleaning up their shops and getting ready for the next day's work. Dagerly walked more freely down the street without his bagful of poisons, and decided he wanted to check out some of the merchants' wares. Blades were on display in more than one shop, and almost all were exquisitely made. Other shops had both magical and mundane reagents, trinkets, and runes that performed different duties.

When Dagerly got tired of searching through the myriad items, he returned to the inn bedrooms and sat on his bed. He took out the heavy coin purse and set it down. He unwrapped the orange cord around the top of it which held it closed, and the red felt opened, blossoming its contents onto the bed. Gold coins spilled onto the hardwood, and Dagerly clicked his tongue at the glorious display.

"Lucky time for me," he said, contentedly. The coins clinked together at the slightest touch, sending a metallic ring through the hollowed-out tree. Dagerly smiled at his good fortune, all for only a few simple poisons. "There's easily fifty gold here! Maybe even more!" Dagerly exclaimed with excitement.

He gingerly replaced the coins into the purse and tied it closed with the orange cord. With a small push, he tossed the diminutive sack into his larger bag and closed it tightly. The sun was almost parallel to his window by the time he was done, and the orange hue of twilight in Darnassus flooded into the room. A slight breeze rocked the tree back and forth gently, and the leaves on the branches rustled amongst their brethren, emanating a sound that reminded Dagerly of springtime.

Dagerly stood from the bed and walked the short distance through the window to the balcony. He halted at the wooden railing, deciding to lean on it. With a small sigh, he gazed out into the forestry with a half-interested stare, noticing only a few things going on. The most notable happenings were Dince walking to the inn with an almost absent air, Aubs cradling a kitten in her arms, and both Aeriah and Krionoso walking back to the inn with a Draenei in tow.

"Looks like they found a new friend…" Dagerly commented. He turned back into the rooms and decided to grab a bite to eat. He descended the stairs, and at the bottom he was greeted by servants mopping the floor and preparing the inn for the next day. Dagerly stepped gingerly over the floor, as to not anger the servants and disturb their hard work. He reached the counter rather quickly, despite the circumstances, and ordered a light dinner. He sat at a nearby table and waited patiently for his food to arrive. Aubs had entered with the kitten and Dagerly overheard her order a saucer of milk.

'_And the humanitarian of the year award goes to… Aubs!' _Dagerly thought, and stifled a laugh. Within moments, his food arrived. He ate slowly, savoring the blueberry pancakes fully. When he finished, he put his plate on the counter, paid the cashier, and thanked the chef, all before returning to the rooms and his bed. He lied down on the wooden surface and billowed the Moonkin-hide blanket over him. Shortly after, he fell asleep and drifted silently into his dreams.

A/N: Well, there's Dagerly's chapter. Next chapter I'll bring the group back together and reintroduce Garret Frosthammer. I can't do another section like this one… too long and spread out, but hey, it worked. Besides, even though he's the main character, you wouldn't want to read about Simonee the whole time, eh? Anyway, like I said, a regroup is happening in chapter ten, so, relax and be patient, for the next update comes soon!


	10. Chapter 10: One More for the Road

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Ten: One More for the Road**

Simonee woke the next day, refreshed. He enjoyed yesterday's cooking lesson thoroughly, and the elves in the kitchen were hospitable beyond what he expected. Sliding out from under the Moonkin-hide blanket, Simonee put his boots on and stepped his way down the stairs. He entered the dining room and sat down on the bench next to the still-blazing fire. Minutes later, Aeriah followed suit and sat next to him.

"Have fun yesterday?" Simonee asked.

"Yeah, but I think Krio had a bit more. Also, we have a new guild member," Aeriah replied. At the same moment, Garret's hooves were able to be heard walking down the flight of stairs. "And speaking of him, meet Garret Frosthammer."

The Draenei stood at the base of the stairwell, nearly seven-and-a-half feet tall. He looked at Aeriah, nodded, and walked up to the bench and bowed low to Simonee.

"Welcome to the Slayers of Destiny, sir Frosthammer!" Simonee exclaimed happily. He stood and returned the bow, and Garret sat on the opposite side of the bench, next to Aeriah. "I suppose you'll need a tabard, then?"

Simonee began his chant, and a blue light began materializing a cloth tabard over the shaman's normal clothing. When the light died out, the black tabard was left behind, with gold trim and a red insignia in the center.

"Thank you for your gift, sir," Garret said, looking over the garment with appreciation.

"My name is Simonee, and you don't need to add any honorifics to that. Simonee will do just fine," said the mage.

"Well, Simonee, thank you for the tabard," Garret corrected himself. He looked briefly into the fire before asking, "I've met two of your group, but how many are there, actually?"

"In the guild, there are around a hundred. In this particular group, eight, should you decide to come along," Aeriah replied.

"Sounds like you guys are on an adventure. I suppose I can try to help. Besides, I've got nothing else planned," Garret said.

"Excellent!" Simonee exclaimed.

By this time, Aubs and Dince had come down from the bedrooms and joined the three on the bench, sitting silently before the fire. Krionoso, Dagerly, and Akall eventually made their way down and completed the group.

"Morning, all," Simonee said, when everyone had regrouped. "I trust you all had an enjoyable day off yesterday. However, now it is back to business. First off, we need to go back to Lady Tyrande and see if she's found anything about King Wrynn. After that, we have options, depending on if she has or not. If there is new information on our charge, we need to move out immediately. I know I don't need to say it, but we've spent too much time already sitting around. If there isn't any more info, then we need to go out and search for him ourselves. Either way, today's the day we get the investigation back on the road."

Dince gave a small groan, but stifled it after a second. Garret only gave a confused look.

"You haven't exactly told me what we're doing here. Am I missing out on some vital facts?" he asked.

"Ah, right. Sorry Garret. You see, the king of Stormwind, King Wrynn, has been abducted by the traitor group called the Defias brotherhood. Our group just so happens to be charged with rescuing him and bringing him back. If you want, you can go elsewhere, or you can still come with us and help us finish this quest," Simonee explained.

"No, I won't revoke my offer to come, I just wanted to know what I'm getting into is all," Garret replied.

Simonee nodded and said, "Okay group, let's get moving. Aeriah, if you would."

Aeriah led the group through the Darnassian dirt roads and to the temple where Lady Tyrande was standing in prayer. They passed the gargantuan statue of the Night Elf maiden holding the bowl of water, and walked up the ramp to the tall shelf. There, stoic stood Tyrande Whisperwind, as always.

"Milady," greeted Aeriah.

"Ah, the Slayers of Destiny, as I had hoped. Are you enjoying your stay in Darnassus thus far?" asked Tyrande, nodding toward Simonee and the rest of the humans.

"Yes ma'am. Your city is simply stunning," Simonee replied in kind, "though we were wondering if you had heard news from your scouts."

"Actually, I have. They're saying there's a new Defias presence in Moonglade. I will supply you for your journey there," she said.

"Thank you, milady," said Simonee, bowing, before he started to turn and leave.

"And Simonee, bring Wrynn back safely."

"Yes ma'am," Simonee replied over his shoulder. With that, the group bowed to Tyrande collectively and walked down the ramp after him. They exited the building and walked back to the inn. There, they began repacking their items and readying to leave the comfort of Darnassus.

"Do you think, when this is over, we can come back for a visit sometime?" asked Krionoso.

Simonee gave a slight shrug and said, "It's a possibility. I wouldn't mind coming back."

The rest of the group was silent, but Aeriah breathed a small sigh as he stared down the prospect of leaving his home city again. Soon, everyone was finished packing their items, and met down in the inn lobby.

"So now we head for Moonglade. The Defias, according to Lady Tyrande's scouts, are there, and in numbers. I'm not sure what they're doing there, but whatever it is, it can't be good. Let's head out and see what we can find," Simonee said, addressing the group.

The eight exited the inn and turned down the path, following Aeriah, to the entrance portal back to Rut'Theran village. From the small village, they took a boat running to Darkshore. They camped for the night mere feet from the exit of the dock, and before long, everyone was asleep. The next morning came rather quickly, shining the ethereal blue light into every of the trees' many crevasses. Aeriah led the group still, through the trees and underbrush of his homeland. They walked miles before stopping for the night in a small clearing near the border between Darkshore and Moonglade. They made camp, and had fun, prior to dousing the flame and falling asleep. The last image Simonee remembered before drifting to sleep was shadowy figures dropping from posts on the trees. Next after that was a familiarly blinding pain.

* * *

A/N: Well, another chapter down in the tale, and once again, I appreciate all who've read my dribble up to this point. If you haven't read my dribble up to this point, and have only just begun reading my dribble, I urge you to read my earlier dribble, and make me happy with your many and plentiful reviews. 

I'm ashamed to have only just fingured this out, but it is the second month anniversary of my work on King's Crest! Yay me!


	11. Chapter 11: Capture, Battle and Betrayal

-1**King's Crest**

**Chapter Eleven: Capture, Battle, and Betrayal**

Simonee woke up to that all-too familiar pain in the back of his skull. His vision was blurred, as he noticed when he tried to open his eyes. After a few seconds of sitting in this dazed state, he shook his head, both aggravating his headache and clearing his vision. He looked at his surroundings, noting that he was still outside, but encased in a translucent bubble of purple. Through the purple, he couldn't tell whether it was night or day. To his left and right, he spotted similar bubbles encasing his group mates. Ahead, he saw the mouth of a shallow cave facing him, with Defias keeping multiple pairs of eyes on their captives. There was a table set up inside with two chairs on opposite sides of each other. On Simonee's left was a man constantly drinking from a flask, making sure not to lift the bandana shrouding his identity. He wore a hood to cover the rest of his head. Sitting in the chair on the right was a Defias dealing a deck of cards. He also wore the bandana. Both were clad in blue cloth robes with staves resting on the table.

"_So you're awake_," called out a male voice, seemingly echoing.

Simonee looked left, right, forward, backward, up, and down, but couldn't find the man behind the voice. "Where are you?" he asked.

"_You'll find out, soon enough. I hear you've been causing trouble for my friends in the Brotherhood. I'm here to ensure you don't_," said the voice. The echo rang out, repeating each sentence. "_Notice your cage, if you will_."

"I've noticed it already," Simonee replied, frustrated. "Now please, if you will, get to the point."

"_Well, I figured you'd enjoy seeing something from your past. I guess I'm wrong. Since you want me to 'get to the point', think of something around thirty years ago_."

Simonee thought. Within mere moments, he had it. "Dalaran? I didn't think any mages besides the ones inside were still alive!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"_Bingo, my friend; and guess what? I was inside Dalaran's barrier as the Scourge attacked. You brought them there. They followed you, and your easily traced trail. You brought the downfall of Dalaran, and yet you go about everywhere as if nothing happened. Meanwhile, I learned the town's trade from whoever was lucky enough to live. I tracked you down over the past ten years, and now I've found you_," the voice said venomously.

"So, now what do you plan on doing?" Simonee asked, curious. If the man was half as vengeful as his voice sounded, he needed to buy some time.

"_I plan to kill you. In due time, of course. But for now, be content to be caged as I once was_."

As the echoing faded from Simonee's mind, he realized he was once again alone. '_The voice must've been broadcast telepathically,_' he thought. '_Only master mages can do that…'_

Trapped, Simonee sat quietly in meditation. Hours passed by without further contact or interaction. The Defias in the cave watched their charges intently, looking for any signs of movement that would warrant some violent reprisal. Simonee and group were only too happy not to give them that pleasure. Simonee himself was too troubled by the mage behind that voice to care. He was sure he could out-cast a Dalaran mage in a normal duel; but someone who's had nothing to do but practice and practice for years inside a bubble with a three-decade-old thirst for vengeance was another story altogether. The mage had believed that Simonee brought the Scourge to Dalaran, which by Simonee's inference, was his hometown. '_But how could he have gotten out of the barrier?_'

"_Quite simply. We realized the danger was gone after thirty or so years, and so took the shield down,_" the voice echoed into existence.

"That makes no sense! Why would you just out of the blue decide that the threat had subsided and take the shield down? I'd like to think mages from Dalaran are a bit more cautious," Simonee said.

"_After we'd been locked inside a protective cage for decades, you're telling me that we weren't being conscious of another possible attack? You are mistaken, my foolish friend. We took every precaution, even placing an illusion of the shield around the city. As for the decision, it was the townsfolk's choice. Unlike Stormwind and all of the other large cities, we in Dalaran don't place one person over another. Why did you think I joined with the Defias to help capture and hold that fool Wrynn? Look to your right. In that cage lies your precious king_."

Simonee hazarded a glance to the next purple bubble down the row. He couldn't see inside, but he took the voice's words to heart. "So what do you plan for him, then?" he asked.

"_That's a secret to be told later. I'd be more worried about your immediate future, though,_" the voice said with a touch of laughter.

"Why?"

The Defias with the flask stood, took his staff, and walked toward Simonee's cage. "Because you and I are going to have ourselves a little duel," he said. The shimmering barrier's edge rose from the ground quickly, ending with the rounded top. Simonee stood and stretched, having been sitting on the hard-packed dirt for hours. The mage walked deliberately to the other side of the camp, turning around after ten paces. Simonee merely turned to face him. He glanced to the cages, counting eight, which included the space his had occupied.

"I'd say there's one missing here," he remarked.

"How so?" asked the mage at the opposite end.

"My group was made of eight. Adding the king would make nine. I only see seven barriers here, and mine would have made eight. So unless you lied to me about the king being here, I'd say you're missing one," Simonee explained.

"So it is; no matter. Brace yourself."

Simonee readied himself, turning sideways with his left shoulder to the mage. He spread his feet apart slightly and planted them firmly into the ground. His counterpart did likewise and the standoff began. They stared each other down for seconds that seemed to stretch for hours, watching for the other to make even the slightest twitch. Simonee concentrated solely on his knowledge of spells, preparing for all but the worst of situations. His eye caught the Defias' movement, and his body's reflexes reacted immediately. He shot off a fireball without hesitation, as the mage lobbed a frostbolt. The spells met in-between. The crystalline shards of ice collided with the roiling flames and the elements canceled out in a cloud of vapor. Another frostbolt shot through the thick steam, and Simonee barely had the time to place a shield around himself. The Defias' aim was true, as the shield absorbed the damage, but the bolt's velocity knocked Simonee backward.

A fireball burst through the clearing vapor next, and Simonee rolled out of the way. The fireball exploded to his left, impacting with a tree. He regained his footing and sent a volley of arcane missiles on their way toward his opponent. They struck the ground in front of him and detonated, sending dirt and stones flying into the air. Using the newly won momentum, Simonee began chanting another spell. A rain of deadly ice shards flew through the sky, bursting on the ground. The Dalaran mage teleported out of the spell's circumference and sent a fireball toward Simonee. He dove away from the flames. He called upon his mana reserves, sending a massive pillar of flame rocketing from the ground to the sky. The mage opposite Simonee cast a shield and stood patiently inside the ring of fire, without having a single hair singed. Simonee grunted with disappointment at his spell's failure to damage his opponent. Meanwhile, the man cast a frostbolt, which hit Simonee directly. His shield didn't survive the impact.

Flung to his back, Simonee quickly stood and fired off three fireballs toward the Defias. One blasted against the man's shield, one went wide left, and the other fizzled out before it could make contact. The _fire ward_ held fast and the duel continued after the mage picked himself up from the dirt. Simonee kept the barrage on as he channeled a round of arcane missiles from his reserves. They hit accurately and the Defias mage stumbled backward, his shield failing. The Defias regained his footing and charged Simonee with stave in hand.

Caught off guard by the tactic, Simonee reached behind him and grasped the handle of his staff. By the time he had detached the staff from the scabbard, he was parrying powerful strikes set forth by his opponent. The Dalaranian mage twirled the stave with a practiced flair before swinging at Simonee's head. Simonee ducked below the blow and swung at the man's legs. The tail end of the staff made contact with the back of the Defias' leg, causing him to lose his stability. He fell backward, and Simonee took advantage of his swing's momentum and grasped the staff by both hands. Raising the staff, he brought it down quickly in a stabbing motion. His counterpart blocked the attack quickly, afterward rolling away and rising to his feet.

The two came together in close-quarters-combat again and each went blow for blow, parry for parry. Simonee's opponent attempted to break the continued fighting, casting a _frost nova_ and rooting Simonee to the dirt ground. Before the mage could escape and recuperate, Simonee matched the spell and the fighting resumed, both parties frozen to the ground. Simonee made each strike deliberate, not wanting to waste energy with wasted swings. The ice melted before too long and the two separated. Simonee didn't allow the other to rest, sending a fireball off before his opponent could down a potion. The spell connected with the ground, forcing the opposing mage to jump backward, away from the blast. The heat from the arcane flame blasted the dirt and sand into rudimentary glass, which was kicked upward from the spell's force. Small shards sliced into the red bandana, shredding the fine-mesh linen.

The mage discarded the now-useless cloth, revealing his face. Simonee could only look on in shock of the man's identity.

"Krionoso?" he asked.

Krionoso grinned and raised the hood from his head. "You should see your face. It's really a sight," he taunted.

"Now I know why there weren't any Defias in Moonbrook that day we killed Van Cleef. You used dummy body parts as stand-ins for dead people. Van Cleef knew he would be hunted, as per his plan, so he had you wait for us and help us as we went through the caves. He essentially gave you the keys to your own mini militia. You tracked our progress as we went along. You coordinated the attack on Sentinel Hill, my capture on return to the mines, and you 'rescued' me from your second-in-command. All the while you were there to ensure we weren't successful in our mission. You decided that this was the best way to pay me back for supposedly helping destroy your hometown; you joined the Defias Brotherhood. Nevertheless, you made a mistake in trying to avenge Dalaran, and releasing me to exact that very revenge. So that's where we stand now. Do I have it right up to this point?" Simonee asked.

"Maybe, though I didn't make any mistake in allowing you out. You see those cages still, right? I'm just as strong as before the duel began," Krionoso said.

"Is that true? Well, let's test that," Simonee replied. He lobbed a fireball at the cave entrance, destroying the table and the man still sitting there. The arcane cages shimmered and fell, releasing the captive prisoners.

"Amusing that you figured that out so quickly. Although your effort is quaint. Look," Krionoso said, smiling. He pointed to the barrier in which he had said the king was being held. It had fallen, but there was no one inside. "Good luck with your search, I really do hope to see you again."

Krionoso vanished, teleporting away to where the king was truly being held.

"All this time, I thought he was with us to help, " Simonee remarked, disappointed. "And to think he's a mage from Dalaran."

He turned to his friends and sighed. "Looks like our search is still on. Let's return to Darnassus, and hopefully we'll have a better lead this time."

A/N: HA! Major plot twist and a 2k word chapter! I'm extremely satisfied the way this chapter turned out, and I hope my readers (you) feel the same way. Enjoy, and hopefully I'll have chapter twelve up soon!


	12. Chapter 12: Night in Duskwood

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Twelve: Night in Duskwood**

The bleak, black nights in Duskwood were legendary; mostly for the extraordinarily dark qualities they held. To Krionoso, it was only another hassle. A hasty white cloth tent had been erected, in front of which lying a kindling fire built from long-dead tree branches. Krionoso sighed; he had made friends in Simonee and his travel-worn group over the past month-and-a-half he had known them. He had absolutely hated having had to betray them. There was, however, no turning back now. Simonee would kill him on arrival. _'I'm no better than that bastard fool Illidan himself,' _Krionoso thought sullenly.

Krionoso sat on a flimsy, backless wooden stool, tending quietly to his fire, roasting his thoughts over the nearly-blinding orange flame. It was a simple campground he occupied. It was outside of ogre territory, but still within range to his Defias brethren, who had no idea he was allied with them; he had never gotten around to sending a missive to every single one of his outposts. They would attack him on sight. The camp was also too close to Darkshire for his comfort. It seemed to Krionoso that with the added stress of having gone against Simonee, he had one enemy too many to handle himself. He was still dressed in the azure Defias robes, scarred, tattered and charred from his scuffle with Simonee. Vesting the robe around his chest remained the unharmed tabard of the Slayers of Destiny. It served as a reminder to Krionoso of the horrible choice he made, and now regretted. The burden of it weighing on his shoulders was terrible.

A slight breeze brushed past Krionoso and his fire, leaving the trees swaying in its wake, as well as the tent. The flame began to dwindle in the gust. It was doused in a silent puff of smoke, and Krionoso sat in total darkness, too engrossed within his thoughts to notice.

Where had he gone wrong with his life? It was, of course, when he had been a young child in Dalaran, blaming Simonee for everything that had happened to the town, and vowing vengeance. As far as he knew, he was the only one within the town that truly did blame him. Being a young child, he hadn't truly realized what had made Dalaran special to magicians. The ley power that resided in that junction was great, and the mages sensed it. And being one of the greatest spellcasters in existence, Arthas surely would have found it, thinking it useful. Krionoso had simply been far too absorbed with revenge and gaining power.

Facing the Light's honest truth, Krionoso realized that Simonee was _still_ more powerful than he. It occurred to him that it didn't matter where you were born or resided for thirty years; though that certainly couldn't have hurt. It was the complete devotion to finding new ideas within the arcane and most importantly, treating magic more like pleasure than business that determined how great a mage you were destined to become. Add to that Simonee's experience from Silvermoon and from age, and it built up monumentally against Krionoso.

The wind blew harder, whisking dead and rotting leaves from the dirt ground. They completed graceful arcs through the sky, forcefully pushed along by the gusting tempest. The fire Krionoso had originally been tending to was dead for the better part of an hour before he even stirred.

He opened one of the tent's cloth flaps and stepped inside. The interior of the tent seemed to betray the exterior's size in the fact that there was a bedroll, laid out fully, next to which rested a cube-shaped wire cage. A middle-aged man sat thoughtfully within the cage, casting a brief glance at his captor. He wore rectangular spectacles, glinting briefly in the candlelight as he tore his eyes away from Krionoso and gazed deeply at the natural floor. A deep blue robe, trimmed in white, brushed the ground around the man's feet, and on the man's head rested a small, yet ornate gilded crown, crowded with jewels of all sizes. Amethysts and rubies had held the larger slots, while smaller peridots and onyx stones lined the rest. Underneath the crown was tousled matte-black hair having gone nearly a month without proper and stately grooming.

The tent was lit by several small hanging lanterns posted around the inside perimeter, and one larger candle sitting lit on the outside stool's matching flimsy wooden table, which itself was placed next to Krionoso's bedroll. Krionoso took a few steps in before addressing his captive.

"Good evening, my liege," he said, sitting on the bedroll. "I trust you're comfortable as always."

Varian Wrynn grunted in his haggard voice. "I suppose as comfortable as can be, having been locked in a cage like this. Like an animal," he said angrily.

"Oh come now. I've given you nearly ever accommodation that I can currently afford. The only other thing I could do is set you free, and I'm not exactly privy to the very thought of that," Krionoso replied, half-grinning.

"What do you really want?" Wrynn asked. "I think after being held prisoner for so long, you can at least answer me that."

"Oh, I thought you knew already, seeing as a certain Mr. Van Cleef had once been a worker under your employ. Chief architectural advisor, if I'm not mistaken," Krionoso replied, still grinning.

"I paid that fool Van Cleef. Handsomely, I might add."

"Yes, you paid _him_; however, not his workers. You, being his employer, should've known how close he was with his men."

The king scoffed regally. "He had too many of the pests. It would've depleted Stormwind's entire stock of gold just to pay all of them less than one piece each!" he shouted.

"Well, you should've perhaps tried anyway!" Krionoso shouted in return. The grin was completely gone at this point. "At least then it would've gone honorably, instead of having them take it forcefully. A full-scale invasion is impending. And I'm going to let you watch your fair city burn to the ground. Then, when you've lost everything, I will let you _try_ and rebuild your precious kingdom from the ashes."

The king was shocked, to say the least. "So you are the new leader of the Defias? Ha! Just try and take Stormwind. And at any rate, what happened to that scurvy-ridden pirate Van Cleef?"

"Your agents killed him," Krionoso replied.

"I didn't send any agents… how could I have?"

"Not directly. Your newest chief architect Alexston took care of that," Krionoso explained, standing to reach out and extinguish the lanterns. Each flame dimmed as he cupped his hand around it, dying completely at the simple channeling of frost arcana. With all but his personal candle out, he produced a loaf of sourdough to sustain his prisoner king.

"I never told Alexston to do so either…" Wrynn said, watching Krionoso while simultaneously thinking on what was happening. He accepted a chunk of the bread before settling back and pondering.

"No matter. The fact is Van Cleef was killed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be off to sleep now," Krionoso said, extinguishing the final flame and leaving the tent in total oppressive darkness. He slipped into the bedroll before drifting off to his distant, troubled dreams.

* * *

A/N: As a note, I don't actually know what Wrynn looks like; this is just what I imagine him to be. Anyway, other than that, enjoy. Chapter thirteen hopefully up on Friday. If not, then Monday for sure.


	13. Chapter 13: The Search Continued

A/N: Review reply time!

Scion: Oh, don't feel so bad! Krionoso feels bad enough for the both of you.

Whim: Thank you for picking up the series (or at least this story), and I hope you end up enjoying the fruits of my labor! I'm sorry for Krionoso, but it felt like a proper plot twist at that junction.

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Thirteen: The Search Continued**

Simonee sat on the hardwood bench before the fire. He and the group of seven had returned to Darnassus with hopes of finding better information. They hadn't made it to the temple yet. Simonee had stopped at the inn for rest and meditation; his fight with Krionoso took more out of him both mentally and physically than he had originally thought. The ice-cold adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream had ceased, and he had nearly collapsed on the road. With the help of his groupmates, he made it all the way back to the city.

The inn was quiet in the midmorning sun, but the noise within Simonee's mind was deafening enough as it was. A fire blazed in the fireplace, tossing miniscule pieces of charred wood into the air. The floor was polished and waxed, shining in a sharp gleam. Barmaids whisked to and fro, collecting dirty dishes from recently vacated booths and returning them to the kitchen for cleaning and restocking. The kitchen in and of itself was bristling with activity, with the chefs and workers each performing their respective jobs. The innkeeper watched over the entire process with his eyes darting from one station to the next and his mouth pursed into a single, thin line.

Simonee, however, noticed nothing of the working spectacle. He gazed deeply into the fire, as if the answers to every of his questions resided within the folds and crackles of the flame. Small beams of sunlight filtered both through the canopy of trees and the windows of the inn, landing on the floor.

Where had Simonee gone wrong with his now-and-once-dear friend? The answer to the question was not forthcoming, and Simonee knew it. He merely stalled having to look for him and where he hid the king. Garret paced behind the bench, his hand instinctively running over the short-cropped goatee around his mouth. Aubs sat silently in one of the freshly-clean booths, propping her head on her arm, which she rested on the table. Aeriah sat next to Simonee, also staring into the flame. Akall played with hand signals, Light flashing with certain ones, manipulated into doing different things. Dince and Dagerly both sparred, trying to keep their own minds off of Krionoso's betrayal. When asked about it, Dagerly simply replied, "Because you all are already thinking about it for us."

He was right, Simonee decided. Thinking wasn't going to do anything for Stormwind or the king. Only action would. But action without reason was useless.

Finally standing and breaking from his thoughts, Simonee said, "Let's go. We've got to find King Wrynn so we can go home. Everyone okay with this?"

Garret stopped pacing and lowered his hand to his side. "Aye," he said.

Aubs stood from the table, and followed Garret's example.

Aeriah stood beside Simonee and clapped his shoulder. "I'm with you as well, my friend," he said.

Akall sent off a final beam of Light before responding, "Aye. Let's get this business over with."

Dince and Dagerly sheathed their daggers collectively and while Dagerly merely nodded, Dince audibly replied for the two of them, "We've got your back."

Simonee, satisfied and delighted at the response nodded. "Alright, then. Let's get back to Lady Tyrande. We've got to tell her what happened with her lead." He walked to the door, exiting through the portal, and into the azure daylight. Myrrh emanated from nearly every crevice of the city, while Silverleaf seemed to be the only herb growing. A cool winter air was stagnant, yet pleasant, adding the smallest of chills; not even Aubs was complaining at it. Aeriah led the way once more through the city streets to the temple, although by now, Simonee was sure he could find it.

Upon entrance to the statue-adorned building, Simonee took the lead up the ramp and onto the shelf. He bowed low to Tyrande as he reached her.

"Milady. While your information was greatly appreciated, it was a trap," he explained.

"I know. The scouts I sent out were killed and replaced by Defias, and I've only just been told this. The imposters have been imprisoned until further trial can commence. I assure you that they will hang for their offence. Meanwhile, the scouts I had sent across the sea have turned up some interesting results. They would not tell me exactly what; but if they will not tell me in report, it must be important enough to follow. They were in Stormwind the last I heard of them. I believe the Eastern Kingdoms is where your search should go from here. I wish you the best of luck in your travels, Simonee. May Elune watch over you and smile," she said. She touched her index and middle finger to her lip and raised them to her forehead, touching it briefly.

"And you as well, milady," Simonee responded, performing the salutation in turn. He bowed again before turning and walking down the ramp. His group did the same and soon they were once again outside.

After they congregated, Simonee sighed. "Of course. After coming all this way, all we must do is turn back once again," he said. "Oh well, to Stormwind we go."

He and the group followed Aeriah to the portal back to Rut'Theran Village, merely a short walk from the temple. The purple mist floated ethereally, undisturbed by drafts swirling around it. Stepping into the circumference of mist for the first time since entering Darnassus, Simonee once more felt the tugging sensation at his head. In a gust of air, he found himself underneath the tented roof of the portal's exit in the village. The hippogryphs down the path and to his right flared their wings slightly at the disturbance, but settled after recognizing the human. Six more arrivals later, and the winged creatures were nearly heard breathing a sigh of relief.

Walking quickly to the end of the aged wooden dock, Simonee and Aeriah both waved down the captain of the harboring ship. The boat moored after several minutes of careful maneuvering, and the captain set down the ramp. He cackled at the sight of who he was picking up.

"Aeriah, my friend! What's the matter? Didn't get enough of me last time?" Johann called, delighted.

"Of course not, my good friend. How's the _Frontier_?" he asked.

"As good as always, just a few voyages older," Johann replied.

Simonee smiled at the show of friendship between the two. "Captain Johann; I am Simonee. I and my group need passage on your vessel," he said respectfully.

"Sure thing!" Johann cackled. "And with Aeriah, your trip is always free!"

"Thank you for your generosity," replied Simonee, grateful. He waved the last four to the dock, and nodded to Johann. When all six boarded, the ship billowed its sails and cast off for Darkshore. Simonee merely sighed at the prospect of having to cross the entirety of the Barrens again with this motley crew.

* * *

A/N: I know I said it would be tomorrow, but why put off 'till tomorrow what you can do today? Anyway, there's the thirteenth chapter, and some more story for you to enjoy. Thanks again to all who have reviewed me. Tomorrow or Monday, expect Imp Act goodness!


	14. Chapter 14: Raindrops

Review Replies:

Hint: Thanks for reading, and I can only hope that this update is able to at least hold ya off 'till next Monday. Until then, thanks again!

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Fourteen: Raindrops**

The Barrens' afternoon sun was nowhere to be seen, hidden behind the massive thunderheads that had built up over the group's past hour of traveling. Simonee was truly glad for it; it kept Dince and Aubs from each other's throats. A savagely fierce wind blew dust and sand from the topsoil, making it swirl in whirlwinds around the group. Loud thunder clapped through the empty expanse of the terrain, amplified by the mountainous regions to the south and the west, as these had created a natural amphitheater.

The town of Crossroads was ahead of the group, peaceful and calm as the citizens living there went about their business. Silhouetted figures against the golden sands flitted across the single town road, moving from one building to the next. Watchmen rested the hafts of their halberds against the soft earth. Merchants' voices could be heard carrying across the plain and through the distance, hawking their wares to the people.

The group of seven cautiously skirted the town, away from the eyes of the guards. Thunder continued to peal through the valley, as lightning arced across the sky and branched off as twigs would a tree. The rain began slowly, and progressively began to pour from the sky, as if a bucket of water was run along the entirety of the sky, filtered through a fine mesh. Some droplets, the size of pebbles, began pelting the ground unmercifully and creating damp craters in the sand. By the time the group reached the opposite side of the Crossroads, the rain had begun falling in torrents. Sheets of water carpeted the area, pushed, pulled, and twisted around by the flailing winds.

Simonee sighed contentedly as another brilliant flash of light illuminated the Barrens. The rain took his mind off of Krionoso and his betrayal. It had also been the first time in years that it had actually rained in the Barrens. This was a special event, and Simonee knew it. The original layer of sediment and dirt that had created the topsoil was now replaced by an inch-and-a-half of mud.

For hours, Simonee and his guildmates traversed the desert plains, under constant cover of rain. Biting winds tore their way through the crying sky, whisking everything, including the group, away. Fighting against the constant pressure, Simonee and all worked to continue on their way. Muscles sore and clothing drenched, the group stopped to take a rest. The port-town of Ratchet was nearby, only visible by the multitude of torches lit around the city. The area was considerably darkened since the morning, and night had fallen. The sun rested to the western skies, shrouded by mountaintops and thick, wispy clouds. Returning to their feet, it was another hour before they had reached Ratchet.

The town had entered into a tentative peace pact with both Horde and Alliance groups, which had allowed the two to pass through, all the while maintaining the peace. The sister-city, Booty Bay, had also done so, and the two were linked by a sea-route. While Booty Bay was the bigger of the two cities, in population, size, and traffic, Ratchet was still an important asset. It had brought in revenue and supplies vital to the Horde; and by the pact of peace, no one could disturb it. Boats regularly rolled in on the tides, carrying either travelers, or crates full of supplies.

As Simonee, Aubs, Dagerly, Dince, Aeriah, Akall, and Garret walked into the city, the thunderheads began to break apart. The pale moon was finally revealed, and the light splashed over Ratchet, displaying the buildings in more than just the quaint candlelight. Simonee walked alone down the wooden dock that led over the water, and waited for the next boat to wash in. The wait wasn't long, and a ship happened along after only a few minutes.

Simonee spoke with the captain for a few moments before returning to his group.

"Our ride leaves in the morning. Let's get some rest," he said, motioning to the inn.

The group silently acquiesced and shuffled to the building. Before entering behind them, Simonee glanced at the peaceful skies, noting as the clouds now found themselves long-distant, over the Great Sea's expansive depths. He smiled, and entered the stone building. He dreamed, that night, of the refreshing rain that had drowned the afternoon away.

A/N: Sorry if anyone thought that this was filler; it was. Anyway, to be honest, this chapter is inspired by the day-and-a-half of rainfall we've recently had here in Connecticut. And besides, the Barrens needs a bit of rain sometimes, eh?


	15. Chapter 15: Past and Present

Yup, Review Replies:

Matt: I thank you for reading, and yes, I do believe that the Barrens is quite like the African Savannah. It's in drought for most of the year, and when it rains, it rains.

Whim: Well, you have my thanks for reading Destiny's Warriors. And guess what? You didn't have to wait 'till Monday for an update. I hope I don't make you kill too much time (or don't I?), but we'll see.

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Fifteen: Past and Present**

The king had been pacing in his steel-wire cage for well over half-an-hour while Krionoso sat and read. He had taken a walk to the town for a few supplies, and while he was out, he had grabbed a newspaper and a couple of books. Both books had their spine exposed to Varian's view, and he had examined them many times over. One of the titles had been _'Magical Theorems, Edition Six'_ while the other was _'Regulatory Actions and Laws'_. Krionoso was currently, however, reading the newspaper.

"Heh, they've got a story on two weeks' ago Horde raid on Stormwind," he said with a chuckle. "I was actually defending Stormwind that time, you know."

Varian grunted, still harboring harsh thoughts against his captor. _'Once I get out, this man will ROT in the stockades!'_ he grimaced. The last he knew, there were already hundreds of Defias sentenced to life imprisonment there, including some rather notorious ones. People like Dextren Ward and Bazil Thredd. '_They were all scum, deserving of every year they got,'_ Varian thought.

What was supposed to be sunlit morning was trapped within the cursed clouds above, mangling it to look as if it was still nightfall. Varian had always meant to get some of his magic advisors to figure out how to release Duskwood from its hex.

"It says here that the raid was originated in Orgrimmar, and had migrated wave by wave to Booty Bay. From there, they went all the way to Stormwind. You should be glad your city is connected to Ironforge. Otherwise, I don't think it would have survived, nor even would your precious son," Krionoso said.

Varian's son, Anduin, was put in charge during his father's trek to Theramore Isle, at the request of his advisors. Originally, he had only planned to be gone for two weeks, until the Defias decided to step in. It started out to be a peaceful voyage on the recently-built vessel, the _Frontier_. That was before a mysterious ship flying deep red sails charged beside them. A man who had been standing on the deck of the new ship called out to the _Frontier's_ captain, a strange night elf that went by the name of Johann.

Unwittingly, Captain Johann had allowed the bandits onto his ship. After that, it all happened so quickly. Armed with an assortment of bastard swords and daggers, the Defias rushed the vessel. A few burst into the cabin, while another held-up Johann at knifepoint. Varian had been sleeping peacefully in the cabin when it went down. He woke as he was in the process of being carted off the ship and across the gangplank on the shoulder of a Defias man, clad in leather armor. From what he could see, the man had wild long hair, tied back by the traditional red cloth bandana of the Brotherhood. Eventually, Varian was set down gruffly onto a stool, with a great view of the craft pulling away from the _Frontier_. That's when he met his current captor.

"Apparently, some little gnome died a few days ago. This says, _'A gnomish celebrity, Cog Twinklesprokket died early this week, found just outside of Ironforge. Investigators found hoofprints on his body, apparently from recent punting; and are on the lookout for a fugitive tauren.'_ What a joke," Krionoso read. He chuckled as he set the newspaper down.

After the ride on the boat, Varian had been led off, to face the most unbearable heat. Humidity robbed him of air, while salty breezes stung his eyes. He had heard about Stranglethorn Vale, and its extraordinary heat, but had found it firsthand to be simply stifling. The sun beat down unmercifully, depriving him of strength at his first step outside of the cabin. He was pushed onto the dock, to the stares of Horde and Alliance alike. _'If only the Alliance realized who I was… I suppose I should be glad, though, that the Horde didn't realize it at that,' _Varian thought. That started the trek to Duskwood.

Krionoso picked up the book that was resting on both table and book, _"Magical Theorems, Edition Six"_.

"I've been waiting for this one forever!" Krionoso exclaimed with joy.

After Stranglethorn came Duskwood. The weather almost instantly changed from tropically humid heat to cold and bitter nighttime. Varian had suffered a week-long cold after the transition. And that's where he stood now. Caged in a tent for weeks on end with naught to do except sit back and wonder how he had gotten here. This was definitely no place for a king.

Looking through the small opening in the maw of the tent, Varian watched as the trees stood stolidly. The wind had abated since last night, and everything was still. He knew it was daytime, at least for a little longer, but dusk was ever permanent here; it permeated everything with darkness. With nothing better to do, Varian drifted off into a nap.

* * *

Krionoso read his newest addition to his personal library, as there was nothing else to do in this lost place. The king had been asleep for an hour before he set the book down. Boredom set in, taking firm hold of his mind. Krionoso grimaced. If he had remained with Simonee and his group, he wouldn't be quite so bored. He shook the thought from his head. Now wasn't the time for regrets.

Holding the opening flap to the tent, he stepped through as enjoyed the weather. It was peacefully calm outside, reinforced by a brisk, windless chill. It was surprisingly 'warm' for a middle-of-January day, but Krionoso didn't mind. As long as it wasn't summertime Barrens or anytime Stranglethorn heat, he was fine with it.

Taking a deep breath of the cool air, Krionoso was about to turn back into the tent, when he noticed a glint of blue in the near distance. Rising to the crest of a small hill was a large silhouetted creature, clad in one-inch-thick steel plating. A single large horn towered above the creature's head, sharpened to a point.

Krionoso gasped. He knew this mysterious creature. Quickly readying himself, he flung a fireball at the monstrous bull. Krionoso remembered this tauren from the battle at Warsong Gulch. And, sure enough, the bull produced a thick runed broadsword at the perpetuator of the fireball – in short, Krionoso.

Compared to the tauren, Krionoso felt like a dwarf. He gulped down his growing apprehension and hurled another fireball, hitting the bull in its chest. Stumbling for a brief second, the tauren resumed its rush. Running at Krionoso at full speed, it reached him quickly and resumed his plight of revenge. The one-horned monster swung its broadsword horizontally. Krionoso ducked and rolled to his side, narrowly avoiding the cold steel blade. Rolling back to his feet, he placed a hand on the side of the tauren. He forced the magic into the bull and an explosion forced the bull backward several feet. It was enraged at Krionoso's contact with it, but more so at the damage he caused. Hairs were singed from inside the metal plate, and smoke rose from the bare areas in the armor. Howling, the tauren hacked downward, connecting only with soft ground. The dirt gave way to the blade, burying it. The bull struggled to free the earth's grasp on his weapon. Seeing his chance, Krionoso rushed forward and channeled the fire magic through his feet. A five-yard area around him combusted and extinguished in a matter of seconds. The dirt - now flying through the air - released its hold on the broadsword, and in turn, the tauren. Moving quickly, Krionoso frozed the ground around the bull's hooves, while it flailed its arms in attempt to break his bondage.

Krionoso took his initiative and began preparing for a Pyroblast. The fire coursed along his arms and culminated at his hands, where a large ball of flame was being brought into cohesion. The spell was on the verge of collapse when he loosed it. It blazed against the iron-hard back of the tauren. The ice that held it to the ground gave way and shattered, as the monster finally fell.

The tauren convulsed three times before becoming still. His grip on the broadsword loosened and the blade clattered to the ground. Sputtering for air after his last cast, Krionoso picked up the too-large weapon and heaved it over his head.

"Goodnight, buddy," he remarked as he brought the blade bearing down on the tauren's neck. A wet _squish_, and then silence.

* * *

A/N: I know I said Mondays, but I got this one done a little earlier than expected. I didn't want to have to go through all the trouble of forgetting I typed this up and then have to type it again on Monday... so here we are. Hope you enjoyed! 


	16. Chapter 16: Mageweave and High Seas

Woot woot, review replies!

Scion: Thanks again for reviewing, and you better get Simonee back in there soon! O.o

Razielsdemise: Once again you overwhelm me with all of these reviews at once! Anyway, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Sixtee****n: Mageweave and High Seas**

The wooden vessel rose and fell with each incoming surge of water. The sails were billowed out to full, cupping the wind and harnessing it to propel the craft forward. Simonee sat on the deck of the boat – named the _Aegis_ – and watched what little scenery there was pass by. The clouds were almost the only thing visible, besides the grey mist that floated above the Maelstrom since the sundering, albeit the Maelstrom was many leagues away, and far to the northeast. Most of the group, save Garret, was below deck, in the cabin. Seeing nothing better to do, they had simply decided to go to sleep until the _Aegis_ made port in Booty Bay. Again, that was still a long ways away, and so Simonee watched, much like a sentinel, as the miles of endless ocean passed by.

The shamanistic Draenei stood solemnly against the boat's railing, apparently lost in thought over one detail or another. From what Simonee had learned about him, Garret was a rather enjoyable fellow. Without much better to do, Simonee stood and walked to the shaman's side.

"Beautiful day," he remarked.

"Aye, that it is," replied Garret. A few moments' pause passed before Simonee spoke again.

"I'm sorry about Krionoso. I didn't know he'd turn around and do that. But, now I suppose you see how much a threat the Defias truly are," Simonee said, followed in short order by a deep sigh.

"He seemed rather friendly when we spoke back in Warsong Gulch. I presume you felt the same?" Garret asked, turning away from the rail. Pulling a large hammer from his belt, he inspected it for dents or any other flaws.

"Yeah," was all Simonee could manage in reply. Garret finished his inspection of his weapon, placing it gently back on the belt. He next turned his attention to his pack beside hi. Opening it, he pulled out his armor piece by piece. At the bottom of the leather bag was a bottle of polish and a small shred of cloth. With polish-soaked cloth in hand, Garret began polishing the beautiful steel mail.

The boat _thumped_ as it fell after a relatively large wave. Spray floated above the railing and rained back down onto Simonee.

"So, what did you do before you became an adventurer?" he asked.

Garret chuckled for a moment before answering, "If you can believe it, I was a tailor. I prospered for a time, but I found myself itching for more." Garret seemed to be reminiscing as he ran the cloth over the shining metal face.

"Do you still take up the trade?" Simonee inquired, watching as Garret gently applied the polish. He seemed to hold it with as much care as a mother would her child.

"From time to time. Mostly, though, it's just on special order."

Flashing a smile, Simonee couldn't help but ask, "Would you mind if I asked for one of these special orders?"

Looking up from the reflections in the steel, Garret showed his brilliant white teeth. "Why, of course! What would you like?"

Simonee hardly needed to think about his choice. "A robe, if you'd be so kind," he said. His current one was in tatters from the unceasing abuse it had endured over the past months.

Tucking the bottle of polish, the cloth rag, and the pieces of armor back into the leather bag, Garret placed the bundle beside him. He then pulled another sack from his side and put it gently in front of him. The cloth opening parted as he pulled the hemmed edges away from each other. The drawstring that kept the bag shut had now been stretched taut from underneath the opening, and the only evidence that it even existed was the small pull-knot and hole from which it had emerged from.

Cresting another small wave, the _Aegis_ lurched skyward before plunging once more to the ocean's surface. Garret's hand remained steady as he stuffed his hand into the medium-sized bag. First, he pulled out a thread of measured wool, marked at each inch by small black lines.

"Hold your arms straight out, please," Garret said. Simonee did so, and watched as the shaman took his arm length. Next, Garret took Simonee's height from the neck down; after which came the waistline measurement.

After each piece of data was collected, Garret pulled a pad and quill from the pack and recorded them. Pulling different reams of fabric from the pack, he checked the thickness and durability of each, finally settling on the mageweave. The next items from the bag were dyes; a collection of vials clinked inside as Garret pulled them out, and the colors ranged from violent red to calming green. There was also a vial full of nothing but bleach to stain the cloth white and prime it for dyeing.

Garret asked Simonee which color he preferred before moving on. Looking at each one briefly, Simonee finally decided on the orange. The dye nearly matched the hue of the sun in the sky, and was a vibrant color. From yet another bag, Garret pulled out two silver pans made especially for dyeing cloth. In one he poured the bleach into a thin layer, while the other was treated to the flaming orange. Garret arranged the stations in an assembly line. First was the mageweave, next to a pair of scissors; then the bleach, followed by the dye. Taking up the scissors, Garret began measuring and cutting the cloth into separate pieces according to the data he took earlier. Then, each piece got a soak in the bleach, and the change was nearly immediate; from a rich purple, the cloth underwent a transformation, ultimately ending in an off-white hue. Using a pair of tongs, Garret then submerged the templates of mageweave in the dye.

Waiting for the mageweave to take the color in, Garret turned his attention to creating new bolts of cloth from the mounds of loose linen and wool he had collected in his travels. His hands worked deftly as he whiled away the time. Simonee watched with total interest as Garret stitched together each matching cloth around plaster tubes. Glancing to the dyeing pan, Simonee gasped in shock as he noticed the color already seeped into the mageweave.

Garret looked as well and grunted happily. "Ah, I almost forgot… mageweave takes color much faster than, say, wool or linen. The only thing that matches its pigmentation speed is silk."

Garret quickly took up his tongs – which Simonee had noticed was encrusted with years' worth of dyes – and began pulling the mageweave from the pool of orange. He let the plentiful excess drip from the cloth, patiently waiting for the droplets to cease falling. As soon as they did, Garret placed the templates onto the wooden railing.

"Now they're going to need to dry out," he explained. "I'll pay for whatever coloring the ship takes on. Who knows, maybe the captain'll like it." Simonee couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the joke. Ten sections of orange mageweave lined the _Aegis_' railing, drying out over the ocean.

By the time the cloth was taken from the wood, the ship was perpendicular to the Maelstrom as it turned slightly to the south; it was still many leagues away from the swirling vortex. Simonee's attention, however, was not on the Maelstrom, but Garret as he worked on the garment. He took the scissors and cut the rough template into exact pieces with precision, careful not to cut into the area measured for arms and torso. Within minutes, Garret pulled the scissors away from the cloth and looked over the nearly-finished product, checking for mistakes. Satisfactorily finding none, he moved on to connecting the pieces. He took up needle and thread and began working the pieces into the whole of a robe. Minutes passed as his large-yet-nimble hands frenzied about the unfinished garment.

Not long after he started, Garret pulled his hands away from the orange mageweave. He held it up, to reveal a grand new robe from what once was a random scramble of pieces. Simonee stared at it in almost complete awe. What most surprised him about the robe was the speed and skill with which the garment was crafted.

Garret displayed his impeccable smile and said, "Go ahead! Try it on!"

Without needing to be told twice, Simonee grasped the cloth gracefully and muttered a quiet "Thank you." He turned to the cabin and, at a brisk pace, walked.

Garret remained outside while Simonee changed. When he reemerged from the threshold, Garret smiled again.

"It looks great on you, my friend!" he called. He laughed with mirth as Simonee trudged up to him.

Holding out five gold pieces, Simonee said, "For your services."

"Thank you," Garret said, respectfully. He pocketed the gold before returning his gaze to Simonee.

Before long, the _Aegis_ was in sight of the coast. Trees towered above the sandy beaches, while dirt paths wound into the thick jungle. Simonee watched over the rails as it passed by small sandbars and reefs.

Soon, the boat came into a large cove, into which was built a city. Booty Bay to be exact. It sprawled ahead of the _Aegis_, built into the hills of Stranglethorn, on the southern coast. Multi-tiered wooden decks comprised the city, lined by a plethora of shops, homes, and inns.

The _Aegis_ washed into the dock on the western end of the horseshoe-shaped town, and a crew of two seamen carted the gangplank from where it had been stowed to the deck of the pier. Clad in his new robe, Simonee was once again the last off of the boat, after he roused his group from the cabins. The city could've been called 'magnificent', if it wasn't for the grimy substance that rose every now and then from the sea. Unless the grime originated from the goblins, in which case it probably couldn't have been helped. Simonee, feeling it was best to leave the city as soon as possible, ushered his groggy group forward.

They walked down the wooden walkway, and turned into the tunnel that led out into wild jungles. The winding path passed through one of the larger hills encompassing the city, and a dirt road led from the path out into the tree-lined Stranglethorn. The road led straight into Duskwood, where it then split off into two; one going east to Darkshire, the other continuing on westward, toward Elwynn. That was the path Simonee and group had to take. And so they went. It took a grand total of three days to pass through each of the provinces; from the humid jungles of Stranglethorn, through Duskwood, and into the brisk cool of the Elwynn forest.

Snow still blanketed the ground, but most of its original volume had melted away, leaving acres of bright green out in plain view. The sun beat pleasantly on Simonee's new robe, and the mageweave took the heat well. Simonee still couldn't get over just how soft the cloth truly was, compared to his old wool one. His thoughts carried him all the way to Stormwind, where they left him looking at the ruined gates. Entering the city and crossing the still-breathtaking spans, Simonee and group took up watch in the Trade District, watching for any sign of Tyrande's scouts. When nothing arose, Simonee wondered, _'What's next?'_

A/N: Thanks all who've read this up to this point, and I would like to remind everyone that the end is nigh! A few more chapters and this one will have been in the books (ha). And on another front, this story has officially overtaken the word count on Destiny's Warriors! Once again, thanks all.


	17. Chapter 17: Rumble in Duskwood

Review replies? Again?

Whim: Thank you for your kind words. I tried not to make it so much fluff, but I suppose it didn't matter anyway.

Matt: Your review makes me happy that I write. Thank you for what you said, it truly made my day.

Scion: Well, I couldn't let Erylian have all the fun. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and I dedicate this chapter to you!

**King's Crest**

**Chapter Seventeen: Rumble in Duskwood**

Simonee stood in the center of Stormwind's Trade District, surrounded by a thick mass of bodies, and the only thing on his mind was, _'Where in the Twisting Nether are those scouts?'_

It took all of his restraint to keep from going to the nearest tavern and drowning the twice-blasted situation in a barrel of fine ale. Morning passed into afternoon, while the crowd thickened and thinned through the span of time. Afternoon passed into night, and the crowd had all but completely dissipated. Lights winked into existence, as runners ignited the sconces and torches along the city's length, and the wavering oranges and yellows flickered with each passing wind. The moon shone beautifully in the clear, cloudless nighttime sky. The merchants had all returned home to whatever families they may have had, while at the same time, Simonee and his group were stuck waiting for a couple of night elf scouts whom they hadn't even a description of. _'If it wasn't for the gravity of this quest, I'd have gone to bed long ago,'_ thought Simonee, tapping his foot on the cobblestone streets impatiently. That notion, however, was ill-afforded. All he could do was sit, and wait.

When the moon was centered in the deep blue sky, only then did two figures appear, walking down the main street in long, lithe strides. The elf on Simonee's left wore a simple unadorned grey robe, which moved more like liquid than cloth. Each step the male took rippled the hemmed bottom of the garment. The one on the right, however, was clad in all-leather armor. A rather thin chestplate – if one could call it that – was the only thing protecting his torso, and two ridiculously large pauldrons extended from his shoulders. Both were armed with a stave strapped to their back.

"Hail, travelers!" the one on the left called. Apparently a priest.

"Hail," Simonee called back, waving. It took mere moments for the two long-legged elves to walk from the end of the street to where the mage and his friends waited.

With a low bow, the one on the left said, "We would have gotten here sooner, but as I'm sure you know, this information is sensitive – we couldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands, or rather, ears – so we had to make sure that the possibility of spying was nullified."

Simonee nodded. He did indeed understand how dangerous the whereabouts – and more importantly the fact that the king was actually kidnapped – would be had they landed elsewhere than originally intended. It could've even caused a frenzy of people to occur, sentencing the king to absolute death.

"You must swear to us that you will not divulge this information with any of the Grand Alliance's enemies, on pain of death," said the priest, punctuating the sentence with emphasis. As if what he said wasn't actually enough of a scare tactic.

"I swear," Simonee said, before adding, "Why, on Arthas' frozen ass, would I give this information out to an enemy when I've been chasing this… objective… over the past five weeks?" It was by divine grace that he hadn't mentioned Varian's name.

"You have got to realize that our situation is a tentative one, at best. Lady Tyrande may have been light about it, but she especially realizes what the implications of this are," the Druid said hurriedly, in order to head off Simonee's growing anger.

"Are you saying that _I_ don't?" Simonee said, beginning to raise his voice. If a night elf could blanch, the druid was definitely doing so.

"Of course not," input the priest. Simonee fumed while the rest of his group swore to silence. Afterward, the priest resumed. "Thank you all. Now, when my fellow scout and I surveyed Duskwood, we found a rather suspicious tent pitched a little ways from the road leading into Darkshire. It is hidden rather well by a small hill, but it is somewhat visible. We know not if this is the man you seek; however, all indications point that way."

Simonee nodded again. He thought about the priest's words. Surely enough, Duskwood was secluded enough, and had many hilly regions, and on top of that was the multitude of trees available for cover. The only true danger came from spiders or wandering Horde raids, although those never strayed too far into the forests; instead they would head straight for either Darkshire or Elwynn. If Krionoso chose to hide, it would be there.

"Aye. I thank you for this information, and I sincerely apologize for my outburst," he said, bowing to the elves.

The two elves returned the gesture. "May Elune watch over you," said the druid.

"And you as well," Simonee replied. The priest fished around in his pack for an item before pulling it out for the group to see.

In his hand was a rather large piece of rolled parchment. "Here is a map to your objective. Use it well, traveler," he said, closing his pack again. With that, the two scouts turned and began to walk to the gate, their jobs done.

Simonee sighed, smacking his palm with the parchment map. "Let's go to bed." He held up the map for everyone to see, and waved it back and forth, saying, "We can leave for this in the morning."

The group nodded collectively, and following their leader, shuffled like arthritis-plagued liches, making their way to the Gilded Rose.

* * *

Varian sat in his cage, and as always, pondered his fate. The commotion caused by Krionoso's kill had awakened him from his nap, and the aroma of the cooking meat had kept him so. A large broadsword – large even by those standards – lay on its side on the table bordering Krionoso's bedroll, apparently another prize from the kill. Examining the blade, Varian saw a twisting, barbed shape inlaid into the steel in dull and callous black iron, which was directly in contrast with the bright, shining, smooth steel that comprised the rest of the blade. The hilt was shaped in the likeness of a dragon's head, while the leather-bound handle was sandwiched on the other side by a pommel in a rounded steel flame. The pommel was painted in red, which shined as a real flame would. Despite it being crafted so finely, Varian knew that it had probably seen its share of killing and blood – and judging by what Krionoso mentioned had wielded it, Varian inferred that it had been mostly Alliance.

Outside, Krionoso was cooking what Varian guessed was the owner of the fine blade before him, and with its size being as such, only a tauren _could_ heft the weapon for any great length of time. The crackling flames that roasted the muscle tissue brought much-needed light and much-craved aromas drifting through the thin canvas that the tent was made with; the latter of which driving Varian ever-closer to the brink of madness. When, at long last, the crackling of the meat ceased, Krionoso entered the tent clutching two platterfulls of meat, steaming hot despite the chilly 'night'.

"Our accomodations may currently be lacking, but I s'pose this is fit for a king," Krionoso remarked, setting both plates down on the table. The porcelain was too thick to fit through the steel wires of the cage, so the mage had to open the cage in order to give the king his meal. Krionoso smirked lopsidedly, before saying, "Now, I know you want this, so if you're good, you'll get it." His voice's tone carried with it a condescension much like that of a father teaching his son the virtues of patience. Varian hated every word of it.

Krionoso inserted the key into the metal-fashioned lock and turned it, hearing the click as the rustytumblers shifted grudgingly into place. Opening the door with a loud and obnoxious _screech_, Krionoso turned away once again to the platters. Varian watched his chances of almost assured escape slip away as the mage had his back turned. Seconds that would normally tick by blithely now stretched on for minutes, and then hours, as his mind buzzed with the very possibilities. However, he found himself unable to move even an inch. It felt much as an out-of-body experience would, and Varian watched his body sitting and watching Krionoso, seemingly in third-person. He didn't quite like the feeling.

Krionoso turned back, blocking the exit, holding one of the two meat-laden platters. He smirked again.

"Good boy," he said, condescensionstill flooding his voice.

Varian accepted the plate, ignoring the quip in favor of tearing whole-heartedly at the mouth-watering steaks. After the plate was received, Krionoso returned the door in its original position, as it protested loudly. Slapping the lock back onto it, he waltzed back to his bedroll. Varian - at the lack of fork and knife - ate his food with eager hands, getting a strange thrill, as if some of his childhood innocence had been restored to him with the meal. _'A sure meal is better than a fireball to the back, I suppose,'_ Varian thought.

The only civility the king had retained was that of not licking his fingers clean after the meal. _'As a dog waiting at the dining room table for more scraps,'_ he had believed. He finished much faster than Krionoso had, and now had to suffer watching as his captor did so; ever so slowly. The mage's every move was exaggerated in attempt to instill jealousy in the king. It worked. Varian grimaced - he felt as if he hadn't eaten a bite at all, as the pseudo-hunger gnawed its way through his conscience. It was all he could do to refrain from jumping on to the cage's walls, thrashing and screaming for more.

At long last - and with no help from Krionoso - the mage finished and placed his plate onto the table currently holding the broadsword.

"Nothing like a good meal. Right, my liege?" he asked.

Varian simply grunted in response.

* * *

Morning returned much too soon for Simonee's liking, although his late rendezvous with the night elves hadn't helped with that. Sunlight flooded golden through the clear glass panes of the window, blinding him as he tried opening the seemingly-lead-weighted eyelids. His body was similarly unresponsive as he attempted to roll over and stand on the wood planks of the floor. Grogginess sliming its way through his entire body, Simonee pulled his cloth boots on and made his way down the stairs of the cozy inn. The atmosphere in the dining room area was likewise friendly, as the sun shone in beams everywhere, casting light into the normally lightless. Pitchers of coffee had been placed on each table for the guests, and spotting this, Simonee instantly exploded into life.

He sat at one of the nearby booths, settling silently on the bench. Overturned mugs encircled the decanter, and pulling one from the formation, Simonee filled it with the life-giving black liquid. He poured endless amounts of the granulated white sugar in with the coffee - anything to return him to full awareness. Over the course of the next half-hour, his group had likewise shuffled down the stairs, catching sight of the pitchers on the tables.

Upon coming into contact with each other, they grunted in greeting and poured themselves their own mugs of coffee from the decanter. Refilling his own before the pitcher went completely dry, Simonee was simply glad there was more sugar to consume.

The room was silent, except for the _clinking_ and _clanging_ of the dishes back in the kitchens,as they bashed into each other while servants washed them. Breaking the near-silence, Simonee said, "Today's the day we set off to end this quest... finally." He left the words hanging in the air, sampling them.

"I've never felt so tired in my entire life!" Aubs shrieked.

Simonee found himself unable to keep himself from laughing at the outburst, and his chuckling filled the air. It soon erupted into full-fledged laughter as Aubs turned to glare at him.

Still snickering slightly, Simonee said, "Ah... I'm sorry. We're all tired. But, at the same time, we have a job to do, and as such it's imperative that we finish it."

The group nodded in glum aggreement as they took in the scope of his words. After all, it wasn't everyday you were sent to rescue the king ofStormwind. It was about as likely as having a friendly little tea party with Illidan Stormrage.

Draining his mug, down through the dregs, Simonee stood and stretched. He walked outside to greet the chilled morning air as it rushed past him, waiting for his group to finish as well. People began filing into the Trade District, ready for another hectic day of bartering for whatever they could get their grubby little hands on. They mostly flocked to the Auction House or bank. Soon, Simonee's group appeared at his side one-by-one, watching the sun rise over the stone walls of Stormwind.

The gate, despite being in ruins still from the Horde's raid, was in otherwise magnificent shape. The debris and rubble had recently been cleared away since Simonee last saw the city. Looking up the rounded wall, he gazed at the parapet, still displaying the damage dealt by the trebuchets the Horde had brought along - which Simonee was still trying to wrap his head around. Both the massive stones that had been fired and the stones that comprised the tower had been hauled away from the wreckage, leaving behind a clear view of the guards' living quarters. Some adventurers had looked up longingly at the damage, only wishing for it to be fixed along with the rest of the gates.

Eventually, the last member of Simonee's group emerged from the inn and stood ready at the others' sides. After exchanged glances, they all set off once more for the cursed province of Duskwood. 

* * *

Krionoso hated doing the dishes. So he didn't, instead opting for tossing them over the hill at unsuspecting passers-by. When he ran out of plates to throw, he simply waited a few minutes before rushing to retrieve them. If any were broken, he mended them with a quick spell, soldering them back together using his fingertip. And so the day progressed, as Krionoso tossed porcelain plates and regained them, and repeating. He derived enjoyment from it for some time before he began to get bored of the repetition. _'Just like everything in this accursed place,'_ he thought bitterly.

Krionoso could've tossed plates at the king, but it wouldn't have been too much fun; after all, he was stuck there as much as his captive was. He had already cooked off the last of the tauren meat - he was still trying to pull the strings of calf muscle from his teeth - and so that form of entertainment became quickly exhausted. Reading was another viable option, although he had already read two-hundred-and-thirty pages of _'Magical Theorems'_, and didn't quite want to start on _'Regulatory Actions and Laws'_ just yet. If he continued reading on at the rate he did, he'd have read through most of the books in the library at Dalaran in the course of a week. And he had, for thirty years straight.

With absolutely nothing better to do, Krionoso paced. He also thought while pacing, effectively doubling his productivity. _'I can't move him without him running; but at the same time, I can't wait here until the attack... this is insane,'_ he thought, _'I don't even know why I got so caught up with this.'_

It was still another week before the Defias' forces could be fully mustered and begin marching. That was simply too long for Krionoso to wait. And it might be for naught anyway - Ironforge was sure to send plenty of reinforcements. _'Unless...' _Krionoso thought,withcandle flashing above his head. If the town crier died, then who was there to alert Ironforge? Krionoso smiled widely. That would be it. He would move with the army and leave them at the gates while simultaneously taking care of the pesky crier, sealing Stormwind from any reinforcement. After all, no one but the criers were allowed immediate audience with Bronzebeard. _'It all works out so perfectly,'_ Krionoso grinned. He fidgeted with excitement, and the king looked at him, deciding it was better not to say anything.

* * *

Simonee and his group of seven had been traveling for hours. They had reached Duskwood without any trouble, but now came the 'fun part'. The priest's map in hand, Simonee began leading the group to where - hopefully - Krionoso's tent was. According to the map, his camp had been mere moments' walk to Darkshire, yet far enough to stay hidden from the settlement. The Defias-held farm was also nearby, just south of the tent. The group walked quickly but quietly, making quite sure that they weren't being watched. The decaying trees swaying in the breeze was the only sound for miles around - besides the eerie chirping of the myriad spiders that resided in the darkness of the forest.

Soon, they came to the hill behind which Krionoso had made his camp. The intersection between this road and the one leading to Stranglethorn was still visible, but was unable to be truly made out from anything at this distance. Preparing himself for what had to be done, Simonee meditated momentarily, still standing on the dirt path. His nervousness was distracting, panging in his chest quite like an ailment that spread through his body. Finally ready, Simonee began to trudge up the hill, beginning to crawl halfway up to prevent being seen.

_'As long as Krionoso's in the tent, I should have the element of surprise,'_ Simonee thought, peering over the crest of the hill. And he saw, as he had dearly hoped, that Krionoso was not sitting outside. Instead, odd shadows were cast against the thin canvas tent walls, one able to be figured as a man, while the rest was a mangled mess.

Simonee bowed low as he began the short trip over the hill, keeping low in case of any prying eyes. He approached the tent, nerves once again shooting through him, reminding him of what was going on. _'Ugh, now isn't the time,'_ he grimaced. He halted briefly before reaching out to the tent's opening flaps with tentative fingertips. _'Behind this is my city's king,' _he thought. The very notion thrilled him. Both numbed and emboldened by his excitement, Simonee grasped the left flap.

He thrust the opening aside and saw Krionoso sitting, shocked on his bedroll. His face resolved into smugness before speaking.

"Hah, found me already, eh?" he asked. Things happened in rapid succession at that point.

Krionoso blurred as he _blink_ed outside of the tent. He charged at the nearest foe - who happened to be Dince - and primed a Fire Blast. The spell was devastating. The rogue was blasted back by the force of the spell's impact, and he found a tree, crashing into it. A smoldering, gaping hole in the side of his leather armor told all thatSimonee needed to know. The tree at Dince's back was splintered, with whatever bark it once had, stripped clean.

Simonee inhaled sharply and let out a low growl. He stomped toward Krionoso and let loose a Pyroblast. One step ahead, Krionoso raised a mana shield before the spell's impact. He was flung backward and winded, but otherwise unharmed. Garret approached him with hammer in hand, clad in his beloved metal mail. Placing many enhancements on his armor and weapon, he began his rush. Swinging the frost-imbued mace ferociously, Garret smashed into the weakened barrier. Krionoso was flung back again.

Smiling, Krionoso let off a fireball, this time aimed at Simonee. Simonee dodged the spell by rolling out of the way, but heard Akall behind him as the flames made contact with the priest. Akall let off a small yelp before becoming silenced. _'Another one down,'_ Simonee grimaced.

Krionoso froze Garret to the ground, halting his enraged charge. The shaman still managed to crush his hammer into Krionoso once more before the mage was hurled out of range. Spotting his opponent's strategy, Simonee hastily set about erecting a mana shield around Garret, refusing to lose anymore of his group. The spell was just in time as a frostbolt splashed against the barrier. Nodding to Simonee in silent gratitude, Garret soon resumed his romp.

Dagerly had been mostly watching the battle ensue as he attempted to unlock the king's cage inside the tent. He was seething with anger, but restrained himself, as he had his own job to tend to. Simonee had told him before the confrontation, _"Stay out of sight, and no matter what happens when we fight Krionoso, _stay in the tent_." _Dagerly had no choice but to free the king. He grimaced. _'This lock is harder to pick than it looked,' _he thought. He fidgeted as his picks clicked the tumblers of the lock into place. Outside, however, the rumble continued.

Simonee grunted as a fire blast washed over his mana shield. The barrier buckled afterward, but he was quite intact. Over the course of the fighting, he had managed to get only two square hits on Krionoso, and both were balked by his own mana shield. Overall, Garret had the most success of the group with his hammer, and Aeriah a close second with his moonkin form. White-purple pillars of magic flooded the surrounding forest, massive columns damaging the entire area, as Aeriah casted moonfire after moonfire.

Aubs primarily stood back and lobbed chunks of ice at Krionoso. Few connected, and much like Simonee's spells, were absorbed by the barrier. It was frustrating, but Simonee did his best to refrain from bursting out in his fervor. An opportunity, slim as it was, appeared as Garret chased Krionoso straight into Simonee's grasp.

Simonee reached out to cast a fire blast, instead only clutching cloth, as Krionoso tried spinning away. At the same time, Simonee yanked backward as hard as possible in hopes of dragging the elusive mage back to him. His attempt was unsuccessful, but he had managed to tear a chunk of the cloth away. Looking briefly at the fabric in his hand, Simonee sneered. It was the tabard he had given Krionoso all the way back in Westfall.

Waving the wool in the air, Simonee shouted, "You dare wear this after attacking us? You are _more_ than a coward!"

Krionoso halted momentarily, which was just enough for Garret to come into hammer-range. Swinging it wildly, he hit the mage squarely with the frosty hammer. Caught unaware, Krionoso failed to maintain his shield, and the impact hit him directly. he felt bones shift underneath him as he flew to his back. Landing several feet away, he struggled to get back to his knees, in a daze. If one could see stars twinkling more clearly at that moment, Krionoso couldn't think so. His sternum pained him with each breath, as if an earthquake rumbled through him with each contraction.

"Give up, traitor," Simonee said, coming in closer.

Krionoso chuckled, even through the pain. "Never. Stormwind shall fall, whether it be under my direction or someone else's." 

Simonee growled and lunged forward quickly at Krionoso. Before he could reach the mage, he had teleported away. Cursing loudly, Simonee looked to the tent, out of which Dagerly stepped only moments before.

"Gentlemen and lady," he began, "your king." He kneeled down to the ground, facing the tent.

The flaps of the tent opened and Varian stepped out, tentatively at first. The trepidation was mostly from his state of mind during his captivity under Krionoso. Seeing no sign of the mage, Varian grinned.

"My thanks are yours, mage." he said grandly. "Your friend here," he began, motioning at Dagerly, "has already explained all that you've been through during your quest. Be assured that you will have all but the highest accommodations."

Simonee realized that he hadn't been paying respect to the king, instead gaping at the man with eyes widened. He quickly fixed this as he kneeled to the ground, lowering his head. "Sir," he said, quietly.

Varian chuckled. "After what you've just done for me, I'd say there's no need for that now," he said, striding to Simonee. "Come, let's be on our way. There's much to do and we must prepare fully for battle."

Clasping him on the shoulder, Varian allowed the mage to return to his feet. "If you don't mind, I'd like to tend to my group," Simonee replied, casting a glance at Dince's still form.

"Of course," the king said, following the mage's gaze. He walked over the hill and waited on the dirt path, allowing the group's privacy.

Simonee sighed and turned to what remained of his group. Aubs, Aeriah, Dagerly, and Garret, not counting himself. Fighting Krionoso had been costly, but absolutely necessary. At last, the king was freed from the Defias, but Simonee wondered, _'At what cost to the group's morale?'_

"So, what now?" Dagerly asked, taking a look at the burned chest of Akall, lying peacefully on the ground. Blood that had seeped from the fatal wound had begun congealing and scabbing.

Simonee sighed again, distracted. "I... don't know. All I do know is that we're headed back to Stormwind. We've got to move Dince and Akall. Who's volunteering?" he asked. He, of course, had his own hand raised, not wanting to disgrace his fallen comrades. They also couldn't be buried in Duskwood - there were many and varied accounts of a crazed apothecary raising the dead.

Looking around, Simonee saw all hands raised.

"Alright. Dagerly and Aubs, you've got Dince. Aeriah, you and I will carry Akall," Simonee said, directing the efforts. "Garret, you're backup. If anyone tires out, you'll need to pick up the slack. Aubs, gradually freeze the body so it doesn't start decaying on us. Remember that these were our friends; they deserve respect for who they are and what they did."

With that, Simonee picked Akall's body from the ground and lifted it above his shoulders while Aeriah did the same. They walked back over the hill and joined the king on the road. Slowly, the eight of them made their way to Stormwind.

* * *

A/N: I would like to say that you've just read my first four-thousand plus word chapter! I would also like to add that there is one more chapter in the story, so be ready! I have it all written out, and it is simply waiting to be typed and uploaded. With that I leave you in eager pursuit of rest. Thanks all who read!


	18. Epilogue: King's Crest

Final review replies of the story!

Scion: Now, see, if I had a healer who could ressurect, then my story would lose its credence! And besides, I killed the priest. LOL!

Razielsdemise: Yes, I figured you'd do that. Anyway, if you like Johann, then prepare yourself, because he plays more of a role than he lets on! You'll find out in Trial By Fire...

**King's Crest**

**Epilogue: King's Crest**

The traveling was long and difficult, carrying the bodies all the way from Duskwood to Stormwind, but somehow, they made it. Simonee and Varian had coordinated the effort so that they arrived in the city at night, past when all of the crowds had either gone home or went adventuring in the forests surrounding the area. Making their way quickly through the canals, they eventually got into the Keep, where they were bombarded by the advisors and their advisors. The crowding got to a point where the king had to clear out the area.

"STOP!" he shouted. The multitude of voices died down almost instantly. "Back away, so that this group and I can get through. I shall explain everything later."

The crowd parted sullenly, allowing the group space to get through. Soon, following the king, they reached the apothecary's laboratory, which had taken up residence in one of the rounded rooms in the Keep. The room was very small and the walls were rounded, encompassing one large stone slab that served as a table. A large, thick metal door rested open, allowing the six into the room. There were no wall coverings or windows, and the bare stone was the only thing visible besides the slab. There were a few shelves holding alembics and retorts, which in turn held liquids of various sorts.

An old man watched from the shadows as the group entered his domain, carrying Dince and Akall. Stepping from the shady alcove, the apothecary made his presence known. Simonee glanced at him and noticed his face had been warped by deep wrinkles, which the mage presumed was created by more than just age.

"Why hello, travelers," the apothecary said in a low rasp. Again, it seemed to Simonee that it wasn't created by age. "What is this visit warranted by?"

Simonee was about to blurt out a disrespectful answer, but was cut off by Varian's gruff voice instead.

"Master apothecary, we have need of your services," he said. _'I'll say,' _Simonee added in thought.

The old man smirked, creating more wrinkles and creases around his mouth. "Ah, and such I see. Have someone collect them in the morning. Now _begone_!" the man said, booming the last word throughout the empty room. The echoes had nearly faded through the halls as Varian and the group retreated from the room. The apothecary shooed everyone once more before closing himself in the room with the heavy metal door.

At the group's quizzical looks, Varian shrugged and said, "Taking his disrespect with a grain of salt is better than being on his bad side."

Simonee grunted and fumed at the callousness shown by the apothecary.

"While he works, however, we have preparations to make. You must rest for tomorrow. I'll have my men take care of everything. Tomorrow, Dince and Akall will be buried as kings. This will be a public event, so come prepared. I have also reserved rooms for you to occupy while you are in Stormwind. I shall have my page direct you to them," the king said.

He called a young boy to his side and spoke to him in an undertone. Without delay, the boy move briskly past the five, and said, "This way, masters."

The page led the group silently, as they walked through miles and miles of corridors, eventually culminating in a dead-ended hallway, in which lied eight doors, each leading to a room specifically meant for one of the group each.

"Here are your rooms, sirs. You can choose any you wish," the page said, before quickly scurrying away.

"Thank you, young master," Simonee called after the boy.

Aubs, Dagerly, Garret, Simonee, and Aeriah stood silently for a few moments before anyone said anything.

When someone did open up, it was only to mutter a 'good night', before they entered one of the rooms. Soon, everyone but Simonee had gone into one of the rooms. Sighing, he finally opened the door to one of the still-unused rooms, taking a quick glance at his surroundings.

Sconces were lit, lining the top of the walls with candlelight. A bookshelf rested on the far wall, filled by tomes of varying lengths. Next to the bookshelf, on Simonee's left, was a small dresser that rose nearly to his waist. The nightstand had three drawers, each with a small brass handle. A feather bed lied perpendicularly with the wall on Simonee's right, with pillows placed in abundance at the head. The headboard of the bed was wrought from iron, but the bed's framework was built from wood. Fine linen bedspreads covered the plushy surface of the mattress, and a silk sheet was laid sideways on the top. On the wall to Simonee's left, a panorama of the Elwynn Forest was able to be seen, its scope including Stormwind and Goldshire.

Simonee took a few steps into the room and lied down on the bed, finally able to relax from the stress of the past few months. Simonee sighed, exhausted and sore. The feather bed was the most comfortable thing he had ever felt since leaving Goldshire back in December. Soon, he fell asleep on the bed, not even bothering to extinguish the torches.

The advent of dawn brought with it a flutter of activity. The king's page had been sent to wake Simonee, Garret, Aubs, Aeriah, and Dagerly, performing his duty quite well, whether or not he planned to do it in the way he did. A fierce clattering erupted through the wide corridor as the boy ran into the butler, who had been carrying a silver platter full of pastries for the group's breakfast. Simonee was the first to appear from his doorway, peering into the hall to locate the source of the commotion. Following him in short order was the rest of the five. The page glanced briefly at each before speaking.

"Good morning, masters. My liege is in need of an audience with you," he said, still sitting on the floor.

The butler simply kept picking up frosted pastries from the stone floor as the boy led Simonee and his group through the maze of a castle. Eventually, the six of them arrived at a grand room.

The walls of the room were garbed mostly in the blue-backed banner of the Grand Alliance. The shield was embroidered so that it seemed to jut out from the rest of the fabric, as was the white trimming details. The other coverings were panoramas of the provinces likewise of the one hanging in Simonee's room. He was able to make out Elwynn, Westfall prior to the Defias, Arathi, Alterac, and the Blasted Lands – which mostly showed Nethergarde Keep and the Dark Portal. Sconces also lined the walls, where no art hung, lighting the area in the wavering orange light. The room was crowded with an amalgam of benches, set in an amphitheatre around a spacious center floor, on the other side of which rested the throne and the king. Simonee presumed that this was an audience hall.

The king motioned for the group to step forward, at the same time dismissing the page.

"Come, come!" Varian called in a friendly tone.

Walking up to the center floor, Simonee knelt and paid his respect to the king.

The king, while not scowling, said, "I thought I told you that you don't actually need to do that."

Returning his posture to standing straight, Simonee replied, "Even so, it is my duty to my king."

Varian looked at the mage with amused bewilderment. "You are a strange man, Simonee; but honorable nonetheless," he said. "Anyway, I sent for you so that you can prepare for the funeral proceedings. I have already sent men to…" he cleared his throat before continuing, "fetch your friends. Caskets have been reserved already and are waiting. All that is left is for the bodies to be placed inside and for them to be delivered. Now, I wish to remind you all that this _will _be a public event."

Simonee listened intently, nodding once the king was finished speaking. "I thank you for that, but you are entirely too…" he was cut off by Varian's raised hand.

"Nonsense. Now, unless you wish to dishonor both me and my offer, I suggest you follow my page to the wardrobe and prepare yourselves."

The page returned to the audience chamber and once again said in a low tone, "This way, masters."

This time, the five were led to a massive closet. It was filled with some of the finest garments that Simonee had ever seen. Miles upon miles of cloth were lined up on clothespins, attached to a small wire that snaked back and forth between the near and far walls.

Simonee was utterly shocked at the sheer number of garments, and so were the four behind him. Gathering himself again, he said to the page, "Thank you. We shall return shortly."

"Yes, sir," replied the boy, bowing. He stood against the wall while Simonee closed the door.

The group reemerged from the threshold minutes later, clad in black suits and ties – in Aubs' case, a dress with skirt that brushed the floor. Simonee nodded to the page, signaling readiness.

They were led back to the gargantuan chamber, where the king was waiting. Simonee observed that so were hundreds of other people. Simonee looked at the gathered crowd and a nagging suspicion filled his mind. As he walked to the throne, he felt as the two-hundred-plus eyes followed him, trained on the back of his head. Once again, he kneeled before the king.

"I see you've found yourselves suitable attire for the occasion," Varian said, wincing at his choice of words. "I hope you don't mind that the procession will start here."

"Not at all, sir," Simonee replied. He was still conscious of the gazing eyes.

Varian nodded, saying, "Good, good."

The audience noticeably shifted, as a door – previously unseen – opened from behind one of the Alliance banners. The person who opened it then proceeded to pull the tapestry up by a tug-rope fixed to the wooden rafters. As it rose, the banner rolled itself into a tight spiral, allowing everyone to see what was behind it. Two soldiers stood, with an oak wood door ajar behind them. Two black, polished caskets lay on the ground behind the soldiers, with a solid brass handle wrapped around both of them.

The two soldiers silently dragged the two coffins to the center of the room, behind Simonee and his group. Setting them down gently on the carpeted floor, the two then bowed low to the king and hurriedly ran back to the door, lowering the banner on their way out.

The crowd's eyes collectively returned to the king and Simonee's group. The mage's apprehension returned with their gaze. Varian rose from his throne at the head of the room and walked silently to one of the caskets. One of his personal bodyguards took up the position opposite him, and the front of the first casket was established. Simonee and his group then filed behind, filling in the empty spots. The first coffin had its share of pallbearers, and seven from the crowd moved down to the second, kneeling beside it in preparation to lift it.

"Drop not these coffins, for the brave men inside deserve naught but respect," Varian called. He knelt beside his section of brass railing and waited while the rest of the first caskets' pallbearers did the same, before lifting the heavy wooden vessel. Each of the seven did so as well, and hefted the weight onto their shoulders. And so the procession began. It weaved through the Keep's hallways, and eventually made it out into the Stormwind canal system. It weaved through, entering the Trade District, and then exited the city through the gates. A gentle decline in the land was the only thing separating the procession from the graveyard, and carefully, it made its way down.

The massive group finally stopped at the graveyard, which was only visible from the headstones and stone borders. The two caskets were set on the ground, gently, and Varian stepped before the mass of onlookers, whose numbers were bolstered by curious bystanders from the Trade District.

"My humble citizens," he began, "we gather here today to honor two brave and bright men. I have not had the pleasure of knowing these two, but there is someone here who has." He motioned at Simonee, beckoning him to come to his side and stand before the crowd.

Simonee cleared his throat briefly before addressing the hundreds of people. "I have naught but one prior eulogy to draw experience from, and so I attempt this nearly blind."

He tried looking at the numerous faces, but faltered at the staggering amount. "Dince… was a good man. He was a thinker and a philosopher. Dince was always coming up with new ideas for nearly everything. He was also a good friend. He laughed when a joke was told; he mourned when a friend died; and he consoled others as they mourned," he said. He then talked about Dince and his characteristics, his first meeting with the mage, his induction into the Slayers of Destiny, his nomination – and later election – into the council, and finally, his adventures with the group.

He began to cry as he spoke. In the two months of traveling, the group had become closely knit… inseparable. When one was lost, they all felt it. After the first of his eulogies, Simonee paused while Dince's casket was lowered silently into the grave. Simonee had been disaffected at the beginning of his speech, but as he reflected, he began to realize what Dince's death would mean, especially to the group's dynamic.

Soon, Dince's grave was filled with both casket and dirt, and the funeral continued.

"I will try to complete Akall's eulogy, but I promise nothing," Simonee said to the crowd.

He began slowly, as he had with Dince's, and then gradually began to speak more freely about his experiences with the man. He hadn't known the priest for long, but in the time that he did, he still became close with him, and it was no easier to speak of his death. By the time he finished the second speech, he was choking up, trying to keep the flood of tears at bay; but to no avail.

The casket was lowered into the corresponding grave. Then, the group – and later the rest of the procession – offered words and prayers to the Light for the duo's safe passage. When all was said and done, the king held up a hand to hold still the crowd.

"In the shadows of this dark time, there exists a glimmer of light. Simonee, if you would please join me again," he said.

Simonee obliged, stepping to where the king was. Varian fished a hand into his own robe's pocket, and pulled from it a small box made of suede. Opening it, the king said, "This is yours, my friend, for rescuing me from the Defias."

Inside the box was a small medal, in the shape of the Stormwind crest, set inside of which was a thumbnail-sized ruby. The medal had been placed inside soft silk cloth and small balls of pulled cotton. The king pulled the medal from the box and placed it on Simonee's suit lapel.

"This is the King's Crest, given only to those who serve me with unwavering loyalty in times of extreme duress. I know what you and your group have gone through in your search for me, and I thank you all greatly," he said.

Varian snapped his fingers, and somehow through the crowd, his page appeared, carrying four similar suede boxes. He handed them to the remaining group members, and then slinked silently away. Simonee gazed at the minuscule shield hanging from his lapel.

Fingering the gem set inside, Simonee said, "Your generosity is likewise appreciated, my liege." Simonee kneeled once more before the king, bowing low and keeping the position.

"Come. We shall return to the city. I have yet one more quest for you."

Simonee sat alone in the king's personal meeting chamber. The king was off, finalizing whatever the politicians had been throwing at him. After the funerals and his return to the city, Simonee had changed back into his new orange mageweave robes – careful to transition the King's Crest. He had then been ushered here by the king's page, and told to wait. So there he sat.

Within only a few minutes, Varian appeared through the doorway and settled into the easy chair behind his desk, which had been made from polished cherry wood. He sighed, exhausted, before leaning forward and propping his elbows on the desk.

"I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you here. So, I'll be frank. I want Krionoso hunted down after the Defias' invasion. Whether you kill him or bring him to me for placement in the Stockades is your choice. He is too dangerous to be left wandering the countryside. Do you understand?" he asked. His eyes were narrow, and his brows were knit together in a scowl.

Simonee nodded gravely, frowning at both the notion and its necessity. "I understand," he replied at length.

"Good. He may have once been your friend, but now, he's an enemy to Stormwind and all it stands for."

Simonee nodded again.

"Be careful, and good luck."

"Thank you," Simonee replied. With that he was dismissed, shooed off by an outward sweeping motion from Varian's hand. Simonee, still lost in thought at the king's request, exited the room and followed the page down the winding corridors to the rooms, where he entered his and flopped down onto the bed. He soon drifted to sleep, to premonitions of flame.


	19. Final Author's Note

**King's Crest**

**Final Author's Note**

Well, guys, that does it. King's Crest has come to a close, and I hope you enjoyed. I would like to personally thank everyone who took precious time out of their day to come and read the distracted writings of a sixteen-year-old high school student. It really means quite a lot to me, and you couldn't even imagine how good your reviews have made me. To those who haven't reviewed: thanks anyway. Everyone's continued support keeps me going, and for that I am especially grateful. I know I may not write the best works, or even the worst, but I do try to give a presentable story to you guys. Thank you ALL for reading. I promise Trial by Fire in another month or so; I need a bit of a rest. Heh, anyway, this is Python, saying thanks to all, keep up the good work, have fun, and most of all, **BE HAPPY!**


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